In a world where war is the norm, venturing out without decent gear is as good as suicide.
The Blacksmith's Forge
A burly man hamred away with rhythmic clangs, shaping a bar of iron with practiced force.
Eric stood quietly nearby, watching for a long while. Only when the hamring paused and the blacksmith took a breather did he step forward.
"Hello there."
"Good day. What brings you here, traveler?"
"Do you sell weapons? Or maybe armor?"
The blacksmith looked up and gave Eric a sideways glance.
"And you are?"
"An adventurer."
"So… you're not from our town?"
Eric nodded.
"Then no. You can leave."
The blacksmith shook his head curtly.
Eric quickly added, "Wait! I'm willing to pay. Just na your price."
The blacksmith sighed, then turned back to him with a serious look. "It's not about money. No amount will do. Weapons and armor made in Bree are only for Bree folk. And even then, not just anyone can buy them."
He added pointedly, "If you're just looking for sothing to keep you from getting gutted out there, I'd suggest visiting the farm next door. They might sell you a hoe."
Eric blinked, and then the realization struck him.
Right. This wasn't a video ga world where you could stroll into a shop and grab a full set of gear from the nearest rchant.
Here, weapons and armor were strategic resources. Not the sort of thing you could casually sell to so stranger claiming to be an 'adventurer.'
Especially not to soone with an unknown background.
"In that case… could you sell so iron? Just a little. For, uh, research."
The blacksmith hesitated. "How much?"
Eric gestured with his hands to show a small chunk.
"No."
The blacksmith shook his head again.
Eric's expression soured.
If he had the right kind of tal, he could make his own equipnt. But unlike in gas where you could dig straight down and eventually hit a jackpot of ores—or even stumble into an underground cavern full of riches—real life wasn't that generous.
You couldn't just start mining wherever you liked.
"Hey there, friend. I couldn't help overhearing—looking to buy a few things?"
Both Eric and the blacksmith turned to see a ragged man with a tangled beard and ssy hair stand up from behind a barrel, smiling at Eric.
Clearly, he'd been eavesdropping for a while.
"And you are?" Eric asked.
Before the man could answer, the blacksmith slamd his hamr down on the anvil and barked, "Get lost, you junk-peddling rat. Don't co sniffing around here!"
The man didn't even flinch. Still smiling, he said cheerfully, "Easy now, my friend. I was just passing through when I heard a conversation I might be able to help with…"
The blacksmith cut him off, "Don't give that silver tongue nonsense. I'm warning you—don't test Bree's patience."
"Of course, of course! I'm always respectful of local customs!" the man said, still grinning.
"Three seconds. Out of my sight," the blacksmith snapped.
"3…"
"2…"
The blacksmith stood up, hefting his hamr ominously.
"Alright, alright, I'm going!" The stranger scurried back, shooting Eric a few glances as he retreated.
Eric looked from the man to the blacksmith, then shrugged and followed after the stranger.
The blacksmith's eyes followed him for a long ti. Just before Eric disappeared down the street, the blacksmith called out, "Careful who you trust, adventurer."
Eric gave a silent nod in acknowledgnt.
Once they reached a quieter alley, Eric asked, "What's your na?"
"I'm William. William the Scrapper, at your service."
"Scrapper?"
"Yeah, that's what they call us. 'Scrappers.' It's not exactly a complint. Local rchants see us as competition—junk dealers who buy and sell everything and anything. We're everywhere and nowhere. Travelers, tinkerers, bottom-feeders… pick your term."
"Sounds… charming."
William gave an exaggerated shrug. "Hey, I don't deny I deal in junk. But sotis, hidden among the trash is exactly what soone's looking for."
"You think you have what I need?"
"Oh, I know what you need. Weapons. Armor. Sothing to keep the guts on the inside, yeah?"
Eric nodded slowly.
"Follow , good sir!" William said with a confident grin, leading him into a less traveled part of town.
Eric hesitated for a mont but followed anyway. The guy's confidence seed genuine, and besides, Bree was chaotic enough that you never knew what you might find in its backstreets.
Before long, William brought him to a shadowy corner of the town—far from the busy main roads. The buildings here looked old and neglected. Vines crawled up their sides, cobwebs hung from the eaves, and the whole place felt like it had been forgotten by ti.
Soone clearly still lived in these parts though. One of the doors creaked open, and a scruffy man stepped out. He glanced at William, then stared at Eric for an uncomfortably long ti as he walked by, only closing his door once they were well past.
Click.
The door locked behind them.
"…This is your armory?" Eric asked, eyebrows raised as he looked around.
William bead proudly. "Indeed!"
Eric's voice went cold. "You think I'm stupid? Or just easy to fool?"
He pointed at the small yard, filled with rusted swords, dented helts, and armor so decayed it barely resembled its original form. "This is what you wanted to show ?"
He was seriously debating whether attacking a rchant counted as a cri here.
William quickly raised his hands defensively. "Please, good sir! I assure you, I'm a respectable trader. Everywhere—Bree or beyond—weapons and armor are strictly controlled. Selling them is no joke. You get caught, you're done for!"
"I had to pull a lot of strings to get these. And I promise you, no one else in this area has access to this kind of supply. You won't find better. Or any, for that matter."
He pulled out a rotting longsword and held it up with all the flair of a magician revealing his grand finale. "Look at this beauty! A bit rough around the edges, sure—but still useful! And if you strike soone with it, well… they won't be lasting long. Rust poisoning and all that!"
Eric took the sword with a skeptical look. The mont he touched it, a familiar screen popped up.
[Decayed Longsword – Attack 1]
"…"
He gave it a test swing, and a chunk imdiately fell off the blade.
If he actually tried to fight with it, odds were the sword would break before it even scratched anyone.
A stick by the roadside would be a more reliable weapon.
He glanced over the rest of the yard—yep, everything here was junk of the sa miserable quality.
No wonder Bree let this place exist. What was there to regulate?
Eric clicked his tongue in frustration and casually moved to toss the sword aside—
—but just as he raised his arm, a system ssage flashed into view.
[New Synthesis Recipe Unlocked]
[Reverse Slter (new)]
Description: Maximizes material recovery.
Input: [Decayed Longsword] → Estimated Output: 50%–80% raw materials
…!
Suddenly, that piece of junk in his hand didn't seem quite so worthless.
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