The silence of the midnight forge was broken only by the low, rhythmic breathing of the sleeping smithy.
Arthur sat alone on a high wooden stool, his crimson eyes reflecting the dying embers of the central furnace. Beside him, the iron signet ring of the Successor caught a stray glint of moonlight, a constant reminder of the weight he now carried.
Being the "Successor of the Smithy" was a title Arthur wore with quiet pride, but it came with a frustrating reality.
As a Blacksmith, his power was absolute within these stone walls. Here, he could reshape the item with a hammer. But the moment he stepped beyond the city gates to hunt, to gather materials, or to explore the vast reaches of the Saharan Empire, he became a "wandering smith" in the truest, most limited sense.
If a blade's durability fall in the heat of a dungeon, he could only offer makeshift whetstone repairs. If he discovered a rare vein of ore in a distant mountain, he had to haul the raw stone back to Winston to see its potential.
He looked at his status window. Among his growing list of abilities, one stood out—a single-use miracle granted by his third class, [Pagma's Apprentice].
Unlike Grid's [Legendary Blacksmith's Creation Skill], which offered the luxury of three distinct opportunities to make custom blueprints, Arthur's [Aspiring Blacksmith's Creation Skill] was a singular, terrifyingly precious chance.
He had one shot to create a blueprint that did not exist in the system's database. One chance to bridge the gap between a workshop and the wilderness.
He closed his eyes, his mind focusing on the prompt that had been hovering in his peripheral vision.
[Would you like to use 'Aspiring Blacksmith's Creation Skill'?]
[Warning: This skill can only be used ONCE. The resulting blueprint will be permanently bound to your account.]
"Yes," Arthur whispered.
[What item do you want to create?]
For many players, the answer would have been obvious. A sword that could cleave the heavens. A suit of armor that made the wearer immortal. Even Grid, in his moments of frantic inspiration, leaned toward a gigantic Greatsword.
"A Portable Furnace," Arthur stated, his voice ringing clearly in the smithy.
The system paused, as if processing the utility of such a mundane request.
[Have you decided? A 'Furnace' is a production tool, not a combat item. Its rating will be determined by the materials and logic provided.]
"I've decided," Arthur replied. "The greatest limitation of a craftsman is the distance between the ore and the flame. I want to bring the flame with me. A furnace that can withstand the heat of a volcano but be carried on a player's Inventory."
[Please describe the structure and materials for the creation.]
Arthur took a deep breath. This was the moment where his [Insight] and his real-world understanding of metallurgy had to merge. He couldn't just say "magic fire box." He had to provide a structural logic that the game engine could accept.
"The outer casing must be lightweight but thermally inert," Arthur began, his hands moving in the air as if drawing invisible lines in the screen. " It must be made of Black Iron. It has the highest heat conductivity and structural integrity."
As he spoke, translucent models of thick black iron plates began to assemble in the void, forming a cylindrical chamber.
"The inner lining," Arthur continued, "I want to use Basalt Rocks—volcanic stone that has already been birthed in fire. It will act as the insulation, keeping the heat contained within the core. I want a folding intake valve that allows for airflow. It needs to be compact but capable of reaching temperatures high enough to melt Orichalcum."
[Calculating structural integrity...]
[Analyzing thermal dynamics...]
[Warning: The compact size will limit the volume of production. Smelting large quantities will be impossible. Item creation speed will be significantly reduced compared to a stationary forge.]
"I accept the trade-off," Arthur said. "This isn't for mass production. This is for the emergency repair. Give it to me."
A blinding flash of white light filled the screen, the digital AI adjustmemts taken over the raw design and make a 3D model.
When Arthur's vision cleared. Floating in front of him was a blueprint of heavy, charcoal-grey item.
[Portable Furnace]
Rating: Unique
Description: A masterpiece of portable engineering designed by the Craftsman who understood it's importance. By utilizing the insulating properties of Basalt and the durability of Black Iron, this furnace defies the traditional laws of smithing. It allows for high-grade production in any environment, provided there is adequate firewood and space.
Features:
* Field Smithing: Allows the use of Blacksmithing skills outside of a designated smithy.
* High-Heat Core: Despite its size, it can reach temperatures of 1,800°C.
* Thermal Shielding: The exterior remains cool to the touch even during operation.
Penalties:
* Reduced Volume: Cannot smelt more than 5kg of ore at a time.
* Work Efficiency: Item creation speed is 60% lower than a standard furnace.
* Weight: 7,390 units.
[The new blueprint has been successfully recorded!]
Arthur gripped the blueprint, a surge of adrenaline washing away his fatigue. 7,390 weight was a massive burden for a normal player—it was roughly the weight of three full sets of plate armor—but with Arthur's Strength stats and his specialized inventory management, it was a price he was more than willing to pay.
He didn't wait for morning. Arthur stood up and immediately moved toward the storage bins. He gathered the Basalt he had harvested from the northern cliffs and several ingots of high-grade Black Iron.
"Going to use it now?"
A voice drifted from the darkness of the rafters. Piaro was sitting on a crossbeam, a piece of straw in his mouth, his eyes sharp even in the gloom.
"The fire doesn't wait for the sun, Piaro," Arthur replied, setting his materials on the main anvil.
"A portable furnace," Piaro mused, dropping down to the floor with the silent grace of a predator. "A soldier carries his sword, but a smith carries his forge. If you can make that work, Arthur, you will be the most dangerous man on any battlefield. Not because of how you kill, but because you can ensure your allies never stop."
Arthur nodded, his focus narrowing. He wasn't just making an item; he was making his freedom.
He began by crushing the Basalt into precise, interlocking tiles. He used a specialized mortar and pestle, infusing each strike with a small amount of mana to ensure the stone didn't crack under the pressure.
The Black Iron was melted down in the main furnace, then poured into thin, reinforced sheets that would form the "shell" of the portable unit.
The process was agonizingly slow. Because he was following his own Unique-rated blueprint, the system required a much higher level of manual precision. He had to hand-crank the bellows, monitoring the temperature with his [Insight] until the Black Iron reached a state of perfect fluidity.
As the sun began to peek over the horizon, the smithy doors creaked open. Grid walked in, yawning and scratching his stomach, followed by a bleary-eyed Steng.
They both stopped dead.
In the center of the workshop, Arthur was standing over a strange, cylindrical object. It looked like a cross between a heavy barrel and a volcanic rock. A low, pulsing orange glow emanated from a small viewing slit in its center.
"What... what the hell is that?" Grid asked, his eyes immediately darting to the item's details. When he saw the word Unique, his jaw hit the floor. "A Portable Furnace? You used your creation skill on a... a stove?"
"It's not a stove, Grid," Arthur said, his voice raspy from the night's work. "It's the end of our leash."
Arthur reached out and touched the exterior of the furnace. Despite the white-hot light visible through the slit, his hand didn't burn. The Basalt was doing its job perfectly.
"You spent your only creation chance on utility?" Grid asked, his voice a mix of confusion and a strange, buried respect. "I made a three-meter-long greatsword and you made a barrel that melts things."
"Think about it, Grid," Arthur said, turning to his friend. "The next time we go on hunting, we won't have to retreat because of our items falling durability. We can repair it on the spot."
The logic hit Grid like a physical blow. He thought about all the times his equipment had lost durability in the middle of a long hunt, forcing him to retreat. He thought about the wasted travel time.
"I hate you," Grid whispered, his eyes welling with tears of jealousy. "Why are you so... so sensible? Why didn't I think of a portable furnace? I could have made a Legendary one! It could have had a barbeque rack and cooked steak at the same time!"
"You were too busy dreaming of big cash," Arthur said with a faint smile.
An hour later, Arthur stood in the middle of the smithy with the portable furnace in his inventory.
"Ready?" Arthur asked.
"Ready for what?" Grid grumbled, still sulking about his lack of foresight.
"A field test."
Arthur walked out of the smithy and headed toward the western gates of Winston, followed by his curious entourage. They walked past the guards, past the merchant stalls, and out into the rolling hills where the Level 80 Grey Wolves roamed.
In a small clearing, Arthur stopped. He set the furnace on a flat rock. He reached into his inventory, pulled out a handful of high-grade coal, and dropped it into the intake.
With a snap of his fingers, he ignited the fuel. Within minutes, the furnace was ignited—a low, vibrant red colour flickered as Arthur pumped the bellows.
Arthur pulled a battered iron sword from his inventory—a piece of loot he'd picked up weeks ago. He slid the blade into the furnace's maw.
[System: Production initiated.]
[Item: Fancy Iron Sword]
[Durability: 24 / 137]
[Status: heavily damaged...]
[Warning: Due to the 'Portable' penalty, heating speed is reduced by 60%.]
The progress bar was slow, crawling forward with agonizing deliberation. But it was moving. In the middle of a grassy field, miles from the nearest anvil, Arthur was performing the work of a master smith.
"Look at that," Steng whispered. "The heat is consistent. It's not flickering at all."
"It's because of the Basalt," Arthur explained. "It holds the heat so efficiently that the fuel lasts three times longer. I can keep this thing running for five hours on a single bag of coal."
As the repair finished, the iron sword emerged from the slit, its edge glowing orange. Arthur took his hand-hammer from his belt and, using a nearby flat boulder as a makeshift anvil, struck the finishing blows.
Ttang! Ttang!
The sound of the hammer in the open air was different—clearer, sharper. It felt like a declaration.
"It's done," Arthur said, holding up the repaired sword. It gleamed in the afternoon sun, its durability restored to 100%.
Grid looked at the sword, then at the furnace, then at Arthur. For the first time, his usual jealousy didn't lead to a tantrum. Instead, he looked at the horizon.
"Arthur," Grid said, his voice unusually quiet. "If you have that... it means we don't have to stay in Winston anymore, doesn't it?"
Arthur looked back at the city walls, then at the sprawling, untamed world of Satisfy that lay ahead of them.
"It means smithy stays with us, Grid. We aren't just smiths who wait for a smithy for repairs. We're the ones who go out and repair our gear in the middle of hunting season if we ever need."
Arthur put the furnace back onto his inventory. The weight was heavy, yes—the weight of Basalt, Black Iron, and responsibility.
Grid let out a loud, theatrical sigh, but he followed. "Fine! But I get to use the furnace first if my armor gets a scratch! And I'm counting on you for the firewood!"