"P-please send our regards to the master blacksmith."

"We will, please come again!"

"You finally look like a proper adventurer, Oliver. Even your boots fit!"

"Hey, what is that supposed to mean!"

One of the girls laughed and gave the young spearman a playful shove as they left the store. The other girl turned back, bowed slightly, and then skipped away to catch up.

"This gear was much cheaper than in the other shops. Maybe we should come back later."

"Definitely, just a shame that they didn't have any enchanted weapons."

"The young shop clerk said that they should have some in stock in a week or two. Maybe we should check it out then?"

Rusty looked at Rolo, who waved at the group of three as they left the store. These were their very first customers, and on the first day, they had already managed to sell a suit of armor. That success made him realize a few problems within both his business and his system, as well as the need to make some adjustments.

First, he needed to craft a few bows, which required a special type of ironwood. Many adventurers seemed to prefer throwing weapons, and smaller items such as daggers or even needles would also be in demand, so that line of products needed to be expanded. The greater challenge, however, was armor. He could only copy his own, and not every size suited every customer. The young man named Oliver was not the same build as Rusty, and because of that, several pieces had to be exchanged. In the end, Oliver left with something closer to a half-plate set rather than the full suit Rusty had intended to sell.

Up to this point, all the armor he had made was fitted for his own body type. The monster variants could not be sold without exposing his identity, so he would need to craft suits in a variety of sizes before copying them. From his observations, other blacksmiths dealt with this problem by using belts and straps. They produced a few general sizes and then adjusted the fit afterward.

'Small, medium, large, and perhaps extra large. I will need to create different variations of each suit if I want to sell them properly.'

His system storage was capable of many things. It could break metals down into ingots, which he could then reshape into armor parts. However, it also had its limits. For now, creating suits in different sizes was impossible unless he crafted each variation by hand first.

He had even tried a few tricks, such as summoning different armor pieces while wearing others in hopes of forcing them to adjust in size, but nothing worked. Swapping to a smaller helmet and then calling up a larger suit only resulted in a comical mismatch, leaving him with a tiny head and an oversized body. If he wanted to produce armor sets in multiple sizes, he would have to take the difficult route and forge them himself.

"How much did we make?"

"It's a lot, Mr. Edmund, look!"

Rolo was happy to show Rusty the hand filled with copper and silver coins. To a young lad like him who was used as an errand boy by the mercenaries such a sum looked like a lot but to Rusty who was now a D-rank adventurer this wasn't much. If he really wanted to make more money he would need to get those enchanted weapons out, otherwise this shop would probably fail.

"Gleam. We're going to the dungeon!"

"( • ̀ω•́ ) "

Gleam instantly perked up and perched herself on Rusty's shoulder, her tiny antennae twitching with eagerness. The prospect of new battles and treasures always caused excitement in the little ant.

"Wait, today? But the shop…"

Rolo started, worry flashing across his face. Rusty turned his helm slightly and pondered. It was true that leaving the children unattended was troublesome. This place had no guards, and the only adults were the carpenters still working on the roof upstairs.

"Don't worry. I've paid the city fee. The guards should start patrolling here now. If something happens, just call them."

"T-the guards?"

Rolo's voice quivered, and his fingers curled tightly around the coins in his hand. For him, even holding that amount of money was stressful.

"Yes."

Rusty confirmed, tilting his helm downward at the boy.

"They will pass by often enough. If anything goes wrong, run outside and shout. Do not try to be a hero."

"But… what if…"

"The city guard may not be perfect, but they will deter common thieves. It should be enough for now. If there is real trouble, remember who it was. I will deal with them later."

"O-okay, Mr. Edmund. I'll do as you say."

Rusty nodded and noticed Rolo glancing at his personal dagger behind the counter. Although the boy was a thief, his level was still one, since he had never killed a single monster. Rusty did not want the young man to risk his life. Even if every sword in the shop was stolen, the system would allow him to remake them without much difficulty.

"Good. Do not try to use that. Just hide in the safe room if anything happens. Do you understand?"

Rusty pointed to the door behind them. It had a lock on the inside and led down into the basement. The children could secure themselves in there if trouble arose. The smithy inside also allowed them to escape through a hole in the wall that had been concealed.

"Yes, Mr. Edmund."

"I don't feel comfortable leaving those four here without adult supervison…"

Said Alexander but was instantly refuted by Aburdon.

"Hah, that's why you of the lower races are weak. I wasn't even ten years old and had to fend for myself, only the strong survive! If they can't even take care of something like a shop, what value do they have?"

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"What nonsense are you talking about? They are still young, kids like them should be playing outside and…"

"And what Hero? Have fun with their families? This world is not a fairy tale, it's cruel and disgusting, you know better than me!"

Rusty listened to the two while looking around. It was clear to him that Aburdon was bringing up memories of the past and reminding Alexander of how he had been betrayed by his most trusted aides. One of Alexander's old acquaintances was also in this city, but at the moment, he was not someone Rusty could contend with.

"Be quiet, you two. I have a reputation to build! Now let's go!"

Even though Alexander complained, Rusty had little choice. His shop was still small and had very little in it. At this stage, he was not too worried about thieves, and although the children were young, they already knew how to survive. Rolo, their leader, was especially sharp and made sure all of them positioned themselves in ways that allowed them to escape or hide if necessary.

For now, Rusty needed to trust them. If something happened, he could only hope they would manage. After saying his farewells, he returned to the dungeon. He needed to gather more materials for his wares and continue gaining levels.

The next few days passed without major events, yet they were still filled with constant action. It took him some time to reach the area with the mechanical beings and begin farming them again. The ore deposit had shifted to another location, but with Gleam, his reliable tracker, they eventually discovered a new spot to continue harvesting.

During his journey, he noticed a change in the atmosphere. There were fewer adventurers, but the ones he saw on patrol were far stronger. It was clear that his recent victory had caused many to fear the possibility of a rare spawn appearing inside. However, he himself was the enemy they were all searching for, and that gave him a considerable advantage as caution was unneeded.

With so few adventurers exploring the area, he was free to gather monster parts and mine rare ores from the walls. Rusty pushed deeper into the winding veins of the dungeon mines, Gleam perched on his shoulder, clicking and chirping as she cast a faint glow along the path. The mining guardians that prowled the tunnels fell one after another beneath his strikes, leaving their broken husks scattered in his wake. From their remains and the glittering walls, Rusty collected a variety of useful materials.

Mana-enriched iron was only one of the metals he could find, as there were several variations. Crimsoniron nuggets, rare reddish chunks that resisted fire far better than common iron. Obsidian ore, which could be forged into razor-sharp weapons. Lesser mana quartz, not as potent as mana crystals yet still useful in similar ways. One cavern was filled with the quartz, and thanks to his system, Rusty stored it all without drawing suspicion.

Each swing of his pickaxe rang out through the tunnels, the steady scrape of metal on stone interrupted only by the occasional clash with another guardian. He stored his haul in the system inventory, already imagining how the resources could be shaped into goods for the shop.

"Good haul."

Alexander said approvingly, though Aburdon scoffed.

"Only scraps. In my day we mined blood-dragonite straight from the corpses of slain dragons."

Rusty ignored them both and continued working until it was time to return. When he emerged, the children greeted him. They had managed to endure the three days of his absence. The shop, however, had been quiet, with only a few visitors buying minor pieces. Word of his work was spreading, but unless he produced better wares, he doubted he could rival the master smiths.

The next few days passed quickly. Rusty divided his time between the dungeon and his forge, crafting new enchantments and applying them to weapons and armor. Yet the time limit of the Soul Forge proved too restrictive, and he realized he could not rely on it for now. A change was needed.

He also noticed the eyes upon him. The humans might have been simple, but they were not foolish. Every time he delivered monster parts to the guild, the clerks made careful notes. They were tracking his activity, and if he advanced too quickly he risked being discovered.

Fortunately, he had already begun preparing for his second life. He upgraded his basement forge into something more suitable, a project that took weeks. Once complete, his days could be spent as a blacksmith while his nights were devoted to adventuring.

He did not need sleep or food, and the days he was not forging or fighting were spent digging a tunnel from his basement. His location was ideal, close to the city wall, which reduced the amount of digging required. The small tunnel was narrow enough to keep orcs from ever using it if the city were attacked, and with Gleam's help and his smaller body, the work progressed steadily.

Continuous projects piled up, but he tackled them piece by piece. For a while life was simple. He killed monsters, crafted gear, and continued to dig. Yet such calm days could not last. As the quality of his wares improved, his fame grew, and with fame came trouble…

*****

"Have you tried that new shop?"

"You mean the 'Living Steel Forge?'"

"It's called the 'Living Metal Forge,' you dolt!"

"Hah, you know I'm bad with names. What about it?"

The man laughed, leaning back in his chair as his companion scowled over his mug of ale. Around them, the guild hall bustled with the noise of adventurers: warriors clanking in heavy gear, hunters murmuring over maps, and porters unloading monster parts.

"I'm telling you, that place just popped up out of nowhere. Nobody saw it being built, nobody knew the smith. Yet the moment it opened, the guy had shelves full of armor and blades. And cheap, too. I bought a pair of vambraces there for half the price old man Drexel charges."

"That's impossible. Drexel may be a grumpy bastard, but his work is solid. You're telling me this newcomer forges better stuff… at half the price?"

"I wouldn't say better, but it's around the same. They even have an enhanced durability enchantment on them, just look!"

The man slapped his arm and pulled up his sleeve, revealing the faint shimmer rippling across the steel bracer. His companion leaned in, squinting.

"That is real. Not some cheap fake carving."

"Exactly. And the boy at the counter swore they will offer stronger enchantments soon for the same low price. I am telling you, better get there before it is gone."

The rough looking man took a long swig of ale and frowned.

"If what you are telling is true… then perhaps this new blacksmith is just trying to gain some fame?"

"That is probably it. I am sure the prices will rise once he settles in."

The man stood and drained his mug. His friend grinned as he watched him hurry toward the exit. The two adventurers never noticed that they were being watched. From a corner table, a cloaked figure rose quietly and slipped out. His cloak was plain and he looked nothing like an adventurer.

"A new smith with enchantments, cheaper than Master Drexel? I must report this."

He left the guild and wove through the busy streets until he reached the merchant district. The air here was thick with the smell of spices, leather, and polished steel. Banners and signs hung from every shop, each one boasting bold claims. Yet the cloaked man had only one destination.

He ducked into a dimly lit back room behind a grand storefront. Past shelves of finely crafted swords, he found Drexel. The master smith sat at a heavy oak table, surrounded by account books and piles of gold scales. His broad shoulders hunched as he polished a blade that gleamed in the daylight.

"Master Drexel. The rumors are true. There is undocumented competition."

Drexel's hand froze mid-polish. Slowly, he raised his head, his old eyes fixing on the cloaked man with a hard frown.

"Speak."

The messenger swallowed.

"The adventurers speak of a new shop called the Living Metal Forge. The smith sells armor and weapons at half our price, some of them enchanted. Customers say the quality rivals yours."

For a long moment, Drexel was silent, but eventually he faced the messenger and spoke.

"Organise a meeting with the other shop owners. Gather them before the day ends."

"Yes, master."

The man bowed and fled in haste. Once he was gone, the old smith looked back at his blade and resumed polishing without uttering another word...