The Max-Level Blacksmith's Instinct
"Even if I studied for years, I could never make something like that!"
When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a familiar place.
It was a remote village on the outskirts of the Empire—the setting of the game I had played for ten years.
The only difference was that I wasn't wearing a VR headset in my room.
That's right.
I had been reincarnated as a commoner in this world.
On my very first day here,
I screamed, "Status Window!" at the top of my lungs.
Of course, nothing popped up.
Hoping I might have been born with some kind of hidden perk,
I tried lifting boulders with my bare hands and attempted to slice rocks with a wooden sword I carved myself.
But I possessed neither monstrous strength nor innate swordsmanship.
I tried every ridiculous thing I could think of, but there was absolutely nothing.
Then came a scorching midsummer day.
I was out in the fields farming with my family, just like any other day.
Born into a family of poor farmers, tilling the soil was my destiny.
Yet no matter how much I did it, I could never get used to it. The work was exhausting and mind-numbing.
Sweat poured down my forehead in streams.
The suffocating heat beat down relentlessly, making it hard to breathe.
My throat felt like it was on fire. I gulped down some water, but the thirst rushed back almost instantly.
Under this murderous heat wave, it felt like I could collapse at any moment.
As I was swinging my sickle, my mother's voice suddenly called out to me.
"Hey! Granger! Come over here for a second."
I barely managed to lift my head to look at her. She was holding something in her hand.
"The sickle is broken. Take this to the smithy and get it repaired quickly."
Taking the broken tool, I let out a sigh of relief.
At least I could escape this brutal heat, if only for a little while.
"Alright, Mother. I'll be right back."
Slipping the few coins she gave me for the repair into my pocket, I set off toward the village smithy.
As I stepped onto a shaded path, I could finally breathe a bit easier.
When I reached the entrance of the smithy, I spotted an apprentice working hard near the door.
I approached him and held out the broken sickle.
"Excuse me. Could you repair this sickle?"
The apprentice set down his hammer, took the sickle, and began to inspect it closely.
Before long, his brow furrowed.
"Man, this sickle is completely trashed. I don't think it can be fixed."
Damn it. We don't have the money to buy a new one.
"With this much damage, it'll take a lot of time and cost a pretty penny..."
The apprentice trailed off, scanning me from head to toe. He sneered, pretending to be concerned.
"...Though looking at you, I doubt you even have the coin for it."
It was clear he was looking down on me because of my shabby, dirt-caked farming clothes.
He stood up reluctantly.
"Fine. I'll ask the Master if it's even fixable. But even if it is, it won't be cheap."
Grumbling, the apprentice carried the sickle inside the workshop.
He jerked his chin, gesturing for me to follow without hiding his annoyance.
"Master, a customer brought in a sickle, but it's in terrible shape. I'm not sure if we can repair it."
As we stepped inside, a man wearing a black leather apron walked over.
He seemed to be the master of the smithy.
"Let me see it."
The master examined the sickle with practiced, experienced hands.
He ran his fingers over the damaged areas, assessing the wear and tear.
"Hmm... The blade needs to be reforged, and the handle has to be replaced entirely. With this level of damage..."
The master hesitated, glancing at me before speaking.
"...I'll have to charge at least one silver."
One silver. That was no small sum.
I reached into my pocket and counted the coins. I had a grand total of five coppers.
"I'm sorry, but I only have five coppers on me right now. Is there any way you could give me a discount?"
The master shook his head.
"I can't do that. Five coppers barely covers the cost of the materials. Besides, we're busy with an important order right now..."
At his words, my gaze drifted to the chunk of metal resting in front of him.
It was a lump of metal gleaming with a silvery luster.
Is that... mithril?
A high-grade material like that was something only a ducal house or higher would commission.
Come to think of it, despite being in the middle of a rural village, this smithy boasted an unusually grand presence.
No wonder this place looked so imposing compared to the rest of the village...
I realized the master standing before me might have been a legendary craftsman in the past.
Or perhaps he was still famous even now.
Naturally, my eyes began to wander around the workshop.
From the various tools hanging on the walls to the bellows, the anvil, and the iron ingots stacked on the shelves...
Everything was something I was seeing for the first time in this life, yet it felt strangely familiar.
As I scanned every nook and cranny of the forge, a bizarre sense of déjà vu washed over me.
Wait a minute...
A sudden question popped into my head.
What was my class in the game again?
Ever since I arrived in this strange world, that specific memory had remained frustratingly hazy.
Without realizing it, a smile spread across my lips.
"Master, in that case, would you take the five coppers and let me borrow your tools for a moment?"
I surprised myself with the words that had slipped out of my mouth.
Yet, somehow, I felt an absolute certainty that I could do it.
The master looked taken aback by my sudden proposal.
I stared at the hammer hanging on the wall.
I felt that the moment I gripped that hammer, everything would fall into place naturally.
"What did you just say? You want to do the smithing yourself? Do you think our craft is some kind of joke?"
The apprentice standing nearby snorted in derision.
Ignoring him completely, I kept my eyes locked on the master.
The master stared at me intently for a long moment before finally nodding.
"Fine, give it a try. I'll let you use his workstation for a bit."
"M-Master! You can't be serious!"
The apprentice protested, but the master ignored him and gestured for me to take the bench.
I sat down at the workstation.
Can I really fix this? I've never done anything but farm work in this life...
But the moment my fingers wrapped around the hammer...
Something unbelievable began to happen.
The heavy weight pressing into my palm, the rough texture of the wooden handle against my fingers, the cold bite of the metal...
All of these sensations felt incredibly natural and comforting.
It felt as though I had been holding a hammer since the day I was born.
My arm began to move on its own, guided entirely by instinct.
Clang! Clang!
The rhythmic, cheerful ring of the hammer striking the anvil echoed throughout the forge.
With every strike, my hands grew faster, and I became completely absorbed in the work.
Handling the glowing hot metal and shaping the tool felt like second nature.
Countless weapon blueprints and crafting methods flashed through my mind like a kaleidoscope.
It was all happening purely on instinct.
As I let my body flow with the rhythm, the sickle was suddenly fully repaired.
The blade gleamed in the sunlight, sharper than ever before, and the newly reinforced handle fit perfectly in my hand.
Even the weight distribution was flawlessly balanced.
It was a masterpiece, easily rivaling the work of a master craftsman.
The master's eyes widened as he stared at the finished sickle.
He stood frozen, utterly speechless with shock.
"Unbelievable... How did you do this?"
He looked at me with intense scrutiny.
"Are you really a farmer? You must have apprenticed at a forge somewhere."
"No, sir. This is my very first time working in a forge."
He began to examine my handiwork with meticulous detail.
"...This is truly magnificent craftsmanship!"
The master couldn't stop marveling at it.
"I've never seen such a perfect sickle in all my life. The curve of the blade, the balance of the handle, the finish...!"
The master showered me with endless praise.
He caressed the sickle gently, as if handling a national treasure.
"You're telling me this is your first time? I can't believe it. With talent like this, even the Imperial Forge would welcome you with open arms."
Unlike the ecstatic master, the apprentice standing nearby looked increasingly pale.
He stared blankly and muttered under his breath.
"How could a country bumpkin like him... I've studied for years and I still can't make something like that..."
He glanced at his own clumsy, unfinished work and hung his head in shame.
"...This makes no sense."
He clenched his fists, grinding his teeth.
He looked utterly unable to accept the reality before him.
I, too, stared blankly at the master and the apprentice.
To be honest, I was just as stunned by what had just happened.
How did I actually do that?
At that moment, a flood of memories rushed back to me.
Memories of myself crafting countless weapons, armor, and accessories.
Gleaming legendary gear, incredibly rare items...
I had forged all of them with these very hands.
And then, it finally clicked.
That's right... Before I came to this world, I was a max-level blacksmith in the game!
My hazy mind cleared up completely.
The memories of my life as a blacksmith returned in vivid detail.
The sensation of the hammer striking red-hot metal, the texture of leather stretching as I shaped it...
Even the intricate mana circuits I used to weave for magical enchantments.
Now I understand how I was able to make this.
It was simple.
The skills I had honed through thousands, tens of thousands of repetitions in the game...
They still worked perfectly in this reality.