6 - Who can forget this Old-man?

'What fucking game am I playing?! Eldrion only had Masterpiece-tier items! Did I get isekai'd into some upgraded version?'

Dexter's jaw refused to close. He swallowed hard, rubbed his eyes like a man doubting reality, then finally accepted the truth—this wasn't the Eldrion Online he knew. Same name, completely different rules.

Shuffling forward in his mummy-like bandages, Dexter suddenly dropped to his knees and slammed his forehead against the wooden floor with a resonant thud.

"Senior! Take me as your apprentice!"

The blacksmith nearly choked on his drink.

"Bah! You're groveling over a damn twig? Where's your dignity, brat?"

'A 'simple' Mythic-grade item with no level restriction? Hell yes I'm groveling!' Dexter screamed internally, forehead still pressed to the floor.

"Please, Senior! I'm begging you!" Dexter pleaded, turning his best puppy-dog eyes on the blacksmith.

The old man remained unmoved, but the corner of his mouth twitched as he watched the bandaged, loincloth-clad idiot grovel before him.

"Senior! If you won't teach me, at least let me watch you work!"

"You shameless brat!" The blacksmith barked a laugh.

"First you invade my hut, now you demand front-row seats to my craft? Did your sense of shame just arrive?"

Dexter's eyes sparkled—that was as good as permission!

He kowtowed once more for good measure before scrambling toward the shore, Mythic Fishing Twig in hand.

The mythical twig didn't disappoint.

With his first cast—no bait, no waiting—a fish practically leaped onto the hook.

After hauling in a dozen glistening catches, Dexter built a crackling campfire. As the first fish sizzled over the flames, rich aromas wafted through the air—a heavenly contrast to yesterday's... less pleasant nasal experiences.

After cooking the last fish, Dexter sprinted back to the hut, carefully balancing the steaming catch. The blacksmith hadn't paused his rhythmic hammering, the clang of metal echoing through the workshop.

"Senior! Taste this—your twig's first bounty!" Dexter announced, proudly presenting the perfectly grilled fish.

The afternoon melted away in rare companionship—shared food, unexpected laughter, and the comfortable silence of mutual understanding. When the last bone had been picked clean, Dexter rose with renewed determination.

"I'll gather materials for practice," he declared, already heading out. The blacksmith simply nodded, watching as his strange visitor disappeared into the gathering dusk.

Hours later, the old smith observed from the shadows as Dexter feverishly smashed stones into crude blades. There was something hauntingly familiar in that desperate dedication... A ghost of a smile touched his lips as he turned away, leaving the young man to his manic crafting.

…

Dexter repeated his daily grind for nearly a week—killing the two bandits, crafting crude swords and shields, fishing for sustenance, and observing the blacksmith's techniques. While his sword control improved, he still couldn't defeat both bandits without sustaining injuries. Several times he nearly died from blood loss, only surviving thanks to the blacksmith's miraculous leaves.

"You're wasting your time, kid," the blacksmith observed as Dexter hammered away.

"No matter how many stones you break, without proper mana flow and consistent striking strength, you'll never forge anything worthwhile."

"What choice do I have?" Dexter wiped sweat from his brow, his arms trembling with exhaustion.

"I can't control mana properly, and I'm dead tired after just twenty swings..."

"Exactly." The blacksmith scooped up a stone and branch.

"Effort alone won't cut it."

Moving to his anvil, he fixed Dexter with a piercing gaze.

"Pay close attention now..."

[!!!]

[Newbie Guide: Proceed to Small Village and talk to Capt. Audrey [X]]

[Newbie Guide (Unique): Learn from The Forgotten #1 [_]]

[The Deity of All Equipment 'Gridlock']

[Craft Crude Sword (Masterpiece): 0/1]

[Craft Crude Shield (Masterpiece): 0/1]

[Reward: Unknown]

'WTF... There was something like this?!' Dexter's mind reeled.

'Since when does Eldrion have a "Deity of All Equipment" class? This completely breaks the original game's systems!'

"Hey idiot," Gridlock's gravelly voice snapped him back to reality.

"Eyes on my hands, not the air."

Dexter's entire focus locked onto Gridlock's movements.

He absorbed every detail—the exact angle of each hammer strike, the way Gridlock's calloused hands channeled mana into the stone with surgical precision, how the crude material gradually took on a golden glow under the master's touch.

With the blade formed, Gridlock selected a branch. His knife moved with impossible smoothness, stripping and shaping the wood in one continuous motion that made the tough material seem as soft as fresh fruit. In a final ritualistic gesture, he joined blade to hilt with the care of a priest performing sacred rites.

'/inspect'

[Crude Sword (Masterpiece) - Crafted by Gridlock]

[Potential: Near-Epic (Limited by base materials)]

Dexter's jaw dropped.

After thousands of hours played across countless characters in Eldrion Online, he was witnessing the impossible—a Masterpiece-tier weapon being forged before his eyes. Not some rare endgame drop, but a blade crafted from ordinary stones and branches.

Through years of playing—creating alt accounts to infiltrate guilds—Dexter had never skipped visiting this starter island. Yet despite all that time, his auto-crafted swords never rose above Normal-grade. Masterpieces were lottery-winning rarities dictated by merciless RNG. And now... he held proof this wasn't the Eldrion he knew—a Mythic Grade Fishing 'Twig' that shouldn't exist.

Dexter's excitement overwhelmed him as he tried to replicate Gridlock's smithing techniques, but his eagerness made his work sloppy.

"Your mindset is wrong, kid," Gridlock admonished.

"Imagine this is the last stone you'll ever get, and your life depends on it. Failure isn't an option... because if you fail, you die."

"Calm yourself and focus. It's not about quantity—any crafter can mass-produce. It's about making each creation special... Master that, and you'll be a True Crafter."

"Love and trust your craft... always treat it as if your life depends on it."

"You won't get to complain on the battlefield when your shoddy sword snaps in half."

"Again..."

"Again..."

The entire night passed without either of them eating. Gridlock observed Dexter's unwavering dedication, seeing the fiery determination in his eyes as he worked—until exhaustion finally claimed him.

Gridlock lifted the blade from the anvil, inspecting the faint golden hue radiating from it. His gaze shifted to the unconscious Dexter, a small grin appearing on his weathered face.

Stepping outside the workshop, Gridlock watched the rising sun gild his white beard and hair with golden light. A melancholic smile crossed his face as memories surfaced—of being one of The Forgotten, of roaming through the endless chaos of the Warring Kingdom and Uncharted Zones... now just a lone crafter enduring the passage of time.

"To all my 'family' who stayed with me till the end," Gridlock whispered, casting a glance back at his workshop, "it seems I'll keep you waiting in heaven a while longer."