Chapter 8

[Test Your Skills]

Mission Objective: Forge 100 repair tools

Mission Reward: +3 Strength, +3 Coordination, +3 Weapon Mastery

Mission Penalty: None

Mission Time: Two months

"Forge... a hundred tools in two months?!"

Shin blinked, staring at the system message floating in his mind's eye with a stupefied expression. His heart skipped a beat as he read the line again, just to be sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"Are you seriously asking me to commit to this blacksmith gig full-time? Like, forever?" he muttered with a twitch in his lips.

The mission reward was, undeniably, attractive. Strength and coordination were things he could grind through physical training—though even that had become increasingly taxing as his body improved. But weapon mastery? That was the jackpot. In a world plagued by Titans, every edge in combat counted—and if this reward gave him even the slightest advantage in controlling blades or other tools of war, it was worth sweating blood for.

Still, a hundred pieces?

That number hit him hard.

Despite Uncle Harry's solid craftsmanship and decent local reputation, the blacksmith shop's business wasn't exactly booming. Shiganshina District, situated on the outer ring of Wall Maria, was not a massive trade hub. The population was modest, the clientele limited, and the demand for iron goods—beyond kitchen knives, hoes, or the occasional scissors—was fairly underwhelming.

In the month and a half since Shin had started working at the forge, the total number of orders hadn't even reached fifty. Sometimes days passed without a single new request.

And even if the demand was there, Harry would never let Shin handle every job on his own. Most of the forging still rested on the older man's shoulders. Shin was still technically an apprentice.

It was daunting.

Still, the mission had no punishment. And if there was no risk, Shin figured there was no reason not to try.

But while Shin stood there deep in thought, brows furrowed and lips pursed, the look on his face seemed to send the wrong message to his mentor.

"This kid's spacing out again..." Harry muttered, arms crossed. "Is he really that dense?"

He shuddered suddenly, remembering Martha's warning from earlier that week. If Shin got hurt under his watch again, he'd be sleeping on the floor. And Martha, for all her warmth, was not a woman who made idle threats.

Despite being a mountain of muscle, Harry was painfully aware that he wasn't the one who wore the pants at home.

"Respecting women is a virtue... Respecting women is a virtue..." he whispered like a mantra to himself.

Thankfully, Shin snapped out of his thoughts and approached, holding out the recently forged kitchen knife. It gleamed faintly in the morning light, still warm to the touch.

Harry accepted it with a grunt, ran his thumb carefully along the edge, and raised an eyebrow at its sharpness. He remained outwardly impassive as he handed it back.

"Barely passable," he said flatly. "Still needs a lot of work."

Shin nodded solemnly. "Understood, Uncle Harry."

He didn't need the system to tell him otherwise—Harry's words were classic mentor-speak. The blade had clearly passed. The old man just didn't want him getting cocky.

In the minutes that followed, Harry launched into a thorough explanation of forging techniques—hammer angles, temperature precision, carbon balancing, the subtle timing of quenching and tempering. There was no hint of reservation. He passed on everything he knew with the kind of generosity that could only come from a man who truly believed in his student.

Shin listened intently.

He was no fool. Inside the city walls, jobs were scarce. The Inner Districts hogged most of the resources and wealth, and places like Shiganshina struggled to make ends meet. Teaching someone your trade often meant raising your future competition. "Teaching apprentices starves the master," was a saying for a reason.

But Harry didn't seem to care.

That selflessness made something stir in Shin's heart.

He would never be a blacksmith forever—his eyes were fixed firmly on the Training Corps, the military, and the battle against the Titans. But he could still appreciate and respect the craft. And for Harry's sake, he would do his best to complete the task the system had given him.

No pressure. No obsession. Just effort—genuine effort.

He would try to finish it.

Time passed like flowing steel—slow, heated, and relentless.

Winter neared. Snowflakes began to dance lightly through the air in the mornings, and the old blacksmith shop became a haven of warmth against the cold. Shin's body, once lean and wiry, was now taut with muscle. His grip strength rivaled Harry's. His hammer strikes rang with assurance, and his precision was that of a seasoned craftsman.

To outsiders, he looked much the same. His frame wasn't bulky or imposing—if anything, he still seemed like an ordinary fifteen-year-old boy.

But underneath his plain clothes was a coiled spring of explosive power.

The system's upgrades had gradually tapered off. What once had been multiple boosts a day had slowed to a trickle. Now, a single point of improvement took days of relentless effort.

Still, it was progress.

And that was all Shin needed.

He adjusted his training schedule, focusing deeply on a single skill at a time rather than dividing his energy. Right now, his attention was on tool forging—mastering the act of creating practical, usable ironworks from scratch.

Kitchen knives were his specialty. Tools were harder. More varied. More delicate.

More challenging.

But Shin did not give up.

Each stroke of the hammer, each hiss of steam, each glowing ember of fire in the forge—all of it was fuel. He had a mission. And he would complete it, whether it took every waking hour.

The new year was creeping closer. So was the conscription ceremony.

Shin's physique had already surpassed any peer his age. He had no doubt that, come spring, he would be accepted into the Training Corps.

So long as the selection process was fair, that is.

If no nepotism or corruption got in the way, he was confident.

On a freezing morning just before dawn, Shin jogged toward the blacksmith shop, cutting through the misty streets at full sprint. His breath steamed from his mouth, and sweat beaded on his brow. It was the same route he always took, only faster. Shorter. Sharper.

No improvement notification from the system this time.

"Too strong for that now, huh..." he muttered, chuckling.

He had half a mind to turn around and start sprinting laps, when something unexpected happened.

The shop's front door flew open—and Harry, unusually early, burst out carrying a heavy toolbox.

Shin blinked. "Uncle Harry?"

"There you are! Come on, hurry up! We've got a big job today!" Harry said, grinning ear to ear.

Shin tilted his head. "A big job?"

He had been mentally preparing to tell Harry about leaving next year to attend the conscription meeting. But he shelved that thought for now and quickly followed his mentor toward the outer district road.

As they moved briskly through the streets, Harry filled him in on the details.

The Garrison Regiment stationed in Shiganshina was conducting its triannual equipment maintenance overhaul.

All blacksmiths in the district had been summoned to assist.

Every blade, hook, and belt in the depot needed checking, sharpening, or reforging. Armor plates had to be mended. Cables and harnesses inspected.

It was the biggest order the shop had seen in years.

Shin's eyes lit up with realization.

"A hundred repair tools..."

It wouldn't be easy. But now—now—there was hope.

"When you're tired, the heavens send you a pillow," Shin murmured under his breath, grinning.

This could be his chance to complete the mission.

With that thought in mind, he followed Harry with quickening steps, heading toward the Garrison's storage depot.

A new challenge had begun.

---

A/N: Please Leave A Comment Or Drop A Powerstone It'll mean alot to me...