CHAPTER 74: CH 74: FIRST WEAPON FORGED- PART 2

It had been some time but Rick couldn’t stop pacing. He could also not keep the complains out of his mouth.

"That kind of weapon... from a C-grade base? No, seriously, what kind of potion did you use during the forging?"

He asked, eyes sharp with barely contained excitement.

Fenrir sighed, wiping sweat off his brow as he leaned against the lab wall.

"That wasn’t the result of a potion."

Rick blinked, thrown off.

"What do you mean? You’re saying the sword’s power came just from your forging?"

"Yes. I didn’t enhance it with anything unusual. I just made it by hand using the forge. That was pure craftsmanship."

Fenrir said.

Rick stared at him, dumbfounded.

"No way. A weapon with an A-tier status effect from a basic C-grade build... You’re telling me it was just you?"

"I’ve been trying to tell you. It’s why I can’t mass-produce them. It takes time. Every step is meticulous. It’s not something I can whip up in a couple of hours."

Fenrir said, voice dry.

Rick rubbed his temples.

"This is unfair. You’ve basically uncovered a gold mine but won’t dig it."

"I have other things to do. Potions, research, dungeon work, the forge... I don’t exactly have time to churn out weapons for the entire company."

Fenrir replied with a shrug.

Rick stopped pacing. His eyes lit up like he’d just had a brilliant idea.

"Okay, how about this—if you agree to make some weapons for me and Legion, I’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about school. You can skip as many classes as you want, and I’ll handle the excuses."

Fenrir’s brow rose.

"Really now. You’re going to help me skip school? I didn’t think you were the type to encourage academic delinquency."

Rick smirked.

"I’m a businessman. I know when to let go of small things in favor of massive returns. And this is a massive return."

He gestured toward the sword still on the monitor screen.

Fenrir considered it.

"Alright. If you’re offering me a get-out-of-school-free card, I’ll make a weapon for you. But I need to know what kind of weapon you want."

Rick didn’t hesitate.

"A greatsword. One that can actually keep up with my strength. The ones I use now either snap, dent, or completely warp when I go all out. I’m spending a fortune replacing them."

"Typical brute problems. Alright. I’ll try. But don’t expect anything soon. I don’t have the materials right now to make something that size."

Fenrir said with a small smile.

Rick waved a hand dismissively.

"Don’t worry about the materials. Just give me a list of what you need—I’ll have the procurement team gather them immediately."

But Fenrir shook his head.

"That won’t work. Most of the people gathering materials these days don’t know how to harvest properly. They damage the quality. I’ve seen high-grade ores rendered useless just because someone pried them out too roughly."

Rick looked annoyed.

"So what, you want to mine it all yourself?"

"Only the critical parts. I can leave you the monster products. I just don’t trust anyone else with the minerals and unique forge materials. They need to be intact. Clean. Pristine, even."

Fenrir explained.

"Ugh... fine. But if you get crushed under a rock while digging for ore, I’m not dealing with the paperwork."

Rick muttered.

"I’ll leave a will with your name on it."

Fenrir deadpanned.

Rick barked a laugh, then pointed at him.

"Alright, smartass. I’ll set aside a logistics team to gather monster parts and bring them here. You just handle your mining and tell me when you’re ready to start crafting."

Fenrir nodded.

"Deal. And I’ll try to make it worth the wait. I don’t want you nagging me again if your greatsword ends up bending like a noodle."

Rick looked offended.

"Hey, I don’t bend my swords. I obliterate them."

"That’s worse."

Fenrir muttered under his breath.

Still, the deal was struck.

With Rick handling monster product acquisition and Fenrir taking charge of high-quality materials, it was only a matter of time before a new kind of weapon entered the battlefield—one strong enough to keep up with a monster like Rick and rare enough to shift the balance of power in the market.

For now, Fenrir just hoped that the time he had bought would be enough to craft something worthy.

Rick glanced down at the weapon Fenrir had brought with him, resting on the desk under careful protection.

The unassuming C-rank sword was still faintly glowing with residual mana, its darkened edge hinting at the burn status effect it could induce.

Despite its humble classification, the weapon was anything but ordinary.

Rick could still remember how easily it had scorched that monster during the test run—like a hot blade slicing through butter.

"So...What exactly are you going to do with it?"

Rick finally said, crossing his arms,

Fenrir gave a light shrug and replied casually.

"Sell it. I don’t need it, and it’s not like it suits my fighting style. Might as well get something out of it."

Rick’s expression twisted into immediate alarm.

"Sell it? Just like that?"

Fenrir raised an eyebrow.

"What’s the issue?"

Rick sat forward sharply, his voice urgent.

"The issue is that this sword is ridiculous. If this gets out onto the market without any context or caution, people are going to lose their minds. We’re barely keeping things stable with the potion madness—and now you want to toss in a status-inflicting weapon made by you into the wild?"

"I mean...It’s not even that great. "

Fenrir leaned back in his chair.

Rick shot him a flat look.

"Don’t play dumb. You know just as well as I do that no C-class sword has that kind of burn rate. The system might say one thing, but anyone who uses it will feel the difference. And when they do, guess whose name is going to come up again?"

Fenrir stayed quiet, letting Rick vent. He could tell Rick wasn’t wrong.

Rick took a deep breath and continued more calmly.

"Look, instead of selling it, let us keep it. Let Legion hold on to the weapon and use it as a loaner. We’ll lend it out to our C or B-class hunters who don’t have decent gear. It’s a huge help—most of them are stuck using outdated trash that doesn’t bring out their full potential."

Fenrir narrowed his eyes slightly, considering the offer.

Rick hesitated, reading the silence as rejection.

"I know it’s asking a lot, especially with how much value this thing holds, but think about it—this way, it stays in our hands, controlled. You won’t have to deal with another public circus, and it’ll actually do some good for people who need it."

To Rick’s surprise, Fenrir just shrugged.

"Sure, You can have it."

He said nonchalantly.

Rick blinked.

"Wait. Just like that?"

Fenrir nodded.

"I told you, I don’t like it. It’s off-balance in my hand, too light near the tip and too dense near the grip. I wouldn’t use it even if I had no other weapon."

Rick frowned.

"But it still works, right?"

"Oh, it works, but that doesn’t mean that I like it. It works almost too well. That’s the problem. Feels like an accident. A misfire. I was trying to make a balanced blade, and instead I made something that feels like it’s going to bite its user if they hold it wrong."

Fenrir said.

Rick smirked.

"So it’s a failure."

"Exactly. An effective failure. I wouldn’t be proud putting it up for sale, not when I know I can do better. But if it helps your guild, then fine. Just make sure it doesn’t end up in some idiot’s hands."

Fenrir replied.

"Trust me, we’ll treat it like gold.""

Rick said, grinning now.

Fenrir rolled his eyes.

"Don’t worship it, either. It’s just a sword."

"Your sword. That makes it a collector’s item."

Rick reminded him.

Fenrir groaned.

But Rick was already calling in his logistics assistant, telling them to get the weapon registered under Legion’s guild vault and mark it as high-priority gear for controlled distribution.

Meanwhile, Fenrir leaned back, stretching slightly as he eyed the now-empty sheath beside the sword’s resting place.

To him, it really was a failure—an unbalanced weapon that didn’t feel right in his grip.

But if others could use it, if Legion could make use of what he discarded, then maybe it wasn’t entirely useless.

"Guess this is how a trash item becomes treasure."

enrir muttered to himself.

Rick heard him and chuckled.

"Yeah, well, your trash is better than most people’s masterpieces. So feel free to fail some more. We’ll take it."

Fenrir didn’t reply. But as he stood to leave, he couldn’t help but glance back at the sword one last time.

It may not have been the weapon he wanted, but it was proof—proof that even his mistakes could reshape the game.

And that was a different kind of power altogether.