Forging the First Sword and Storming the Jungle
Now that the forge was complete, it was time to stock up on the essentials. First up: fuel to generate a powerful fire, and iron ore or ingots to produce the iron itself.
In alternate history novels, protagonists often struggle to procure bituminous coal for fuel at this stage. But in the 21st century where I live, that's not much of a hassle. I'd already secured some bituminous coal ahead of time. My imprinted Burti blacksmithing technique referred to it by a different name, but it wasn't hard to figure out what it meant. Acquiring it was a breeze.
Next came the iron ore or raw iron. While focusing on hunting minotaurs lately, I'd collected their axes. Bringing in iron ore from outside isn't tough—you can just buy ingots or even steel. In the modern world, money buys anything. But the reason I wanted to use the minotaur axes was simple: the iron in them wasn't ordinary.
Examining a minotaur axe reveals the description: "An axe made from iron produced on the island." That means the axe itself was forged from this island's iron. Everything from the island tends to be top-quality. So, I figured this iron would be superior to anything bought off-world.
I started melting down the axes. All my actions were based on the Burti blacksmithing technique. It wasn't drastically different from what I'd memorized from YouTube videos, but there were plenty of subtle differences in the details.
After going through the various processes, I finally reached the sword-forging stage. I focused purely on hammering away without a second thought. This pounding shapes the blade and raises its completion level. In novels, dwarves pour their soul into this step—and it was true. Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
Noise becomes background hum when it repeats at steady intervals, to the point where you barely register it anymore. That's how I felt now. Doing this somehow felt healing in its own way. When you concentrate fully on something, even if it's tough, your mind finds peace. Isn't that what healing really means—easing the heart?
And one of the things that heals me most is this.
Strength +1 (Sustained labor)
Stamina +1 (Sustained labor)
... (Continued gains)
These occasional notifications fill me with joy. My current class prevents me from raising Strength or Agility with level-up points. I'd wondered if they just wouldn't increase at all, but thankfully, that's not the case. Seeing Strength and Stamina rise like this proves it. Agility would be nice, but no dice—makes sense, since hammering has zero relation to it.
After a solid five hours of nonstop hammering, Strength and Stamina had risen by 13 and 14, respectively. And finally, the first sword was complete.
Burti Blacksmithing (Basic) (Active) skill has leveled up to 3.
I used Observation on the sword I'd made.
Item: Steel Sword (Level 3)
Attack Power: 73~97
Effects: Swordsmanship Level +2, Strength +4
A sword forged from island-produced iron. Crafted with Burti blacksmithing technique, it possesses greater power than equivalent swords. Not exceptionally masterful due to the smith's inexperience. Very high mana conductivity.
No beginner's luck or anything flashy. Still, not a bad sword. Way better than a mana tree wooden sword, at least.
"Not bad. A couple more, and it'll improve. But first, something else to make."
With the sword done, next up armor? Nope. I needed to make what mattered most to me.
"Gotta make a lighter. Can't keep doing that lame magic with matches!"
How to make a lighter? I'd disassembled a famous Zippo and brought a few in. No limit on bringing them, after all.
"How to replicate this mechanism? Funny thing—the Burti blacksmithing technique covers mechanical stuff like this too."
Dwarves making gadgets? Standard in stories. Never seen a real dwarf, so who knows if it's accurate. But does it matter?
The Zippo was tricky yet straightforward. Took five hours for the sword, but twelve for the lighter. Still, success!
"Kuhahaha! They're all dead now!"
Game over. My real ace isn't the steel sword—it's this lighter.
Observation on the lighter? Just "Lighter." But the system recognizes it as one. Gates supposedly don't let machinery work. I vaguely thought that. Yet a far more complex fishing rod functions fine. Its internals are way more intricate than a lighter's.
"So what's the difference?"
I came up with hypotheses. The most plausible: "A fishing rod can't be a weapon, but a lighter can. Not directly, but fire leads to destruction."
Nyaang?
"Can't you club with a fishing rod? Sharp point. But then clubs shouldn't work here either."
Nyaang.
Hoya flopped down indifferently. Anyway, my theory: danger potential. Fishing rods aren't hazardous, but simple mechanisms like lighters can be. That's it, probably. Just my guess.
Fun part: No restrictions implementing it here.
Click!
The lighter sparked to life. Never appreciated how great this simple thing is on Earth. Firesteel works fine, but this is way easier. Legend says Zippos were made because soldiers' lighters failed in war for cigs—as long as fueled right, they rarely fail.
"All dead! Now just armor."
Can't make full plate yet. Went for lightweight heart protection. Didn't take long. Shape like those "Sparta!" guys' chest armor.
"Hoya! This pass entrance check?"
Hoya eyed me closely, pawed the armor. It stung, but I'm pro—no wincing. Hoya approved.
Nyang!
Good to go. With Hoya's okay, I gathered the squad and headed to the forest entrance. Rode Kkamangi, Baekya beside, Karak too. Thought of putting Karak on Baekya, but Karak was scared, Baekya uninterested.
Why bring them all? Simple.
"Solo's scary!"
Obviously. So we go together. I grow, they grow.
"Let's enter."
Only I'm tense. Makes sense—they're locals.
One step in, and wow—the world changed. Like they say, but real.
Just one step. Another world. This couldn't be on the island.
Why?
"It's a jungle."
What I vaguely called forest was dense jungle. Like Amazon docs.
"Hoya, this the forest interior?"
Nyaang! Yup. Felt eyes everywhere. Owners?
Pop! Squeak!
Goblins. Per preemptive strike rule, I loosed arrows—two goblins pierced dead.
"Kids, wipe 'em!"
Karak charged confidently, swinging his blade unlike usual. Baekya too. Even Kkamangi. Hoya spectated from my shoulder. Always feels weightless, like a bird. Our Hoya's eternally feather-light and lovable.
Gazing adoringly, Hoya grimaced.
Nyaang?
"What? Just admiring your beauty."
Thwack! Back of head. Hurt like hell.
Nyang! Nyang-nyaang! Nyang-nyaang!
"Slacking? Got it."
Grabbed bow, started goblin hunt.
Nearly wiped a goblin tribe. Leveled me up 1, them some too. Karak checked corpses for loot, piled usable bits. Not much, but scrap metal. Melt for Karak's weapons/armor—he's too ragged. Same for Kkamangi and Baekya—armor would help.
Cleared battlefield, prepped next. Checked weapons, secured area. Jungle terrain means base-building key. Gotta grow here. Hoya wants my levels up—how high, unknown.
"Karak, where's your tribe?"
Karak flinched. Uh? Misunderstanding.
"Not saying I'll smash... er, hunt your tribe. Curious. Don't wanna exterminate if possible."
Absolutely not. Just recruit useful ones via Karak? Flinch. Reading my mind? Dodges.
"Let's chat about us?"
Krak, krakik.
Karak rolled eyes in fear.