Equipment Matters
Equipment matters. You know it, they know it, and even the hopeless youngest son of Baron Ferguson next door knows it. Gloves, pants, accessories, clothing. Hell, even underwear counts as equipment in this world.
Maybe it's only natural. After all, it's the clothing that stays closest to your body the longest.
So, when picking equipment, what's the most important thing?
The item's grade? The materials? The shopkeeper next door always insists it's the craftsman's touch, but you have to watch out for guys like that.
In my opinion, there's only one thing that truly matters: compatibility with the wearer. The resonance and breath of their mana.
No matter how top-tier the equipment is, if it doesn't suit the user, it's worthless. On the flip side, when compatibility clicks perfectly, the synergy can elevate the user's entire level by several stages. And that's even if just one piece matches.
Some people call this superstition. I get it. After all, there's no method in this world to actually check compatibility.
That's why only an extremely small number of lucky people ever get their hands on gear that fits them perfectly.
This was a post from some community forum.
Yeah, not a single thing in there was wrong. But what if?
What if there was a way to check compatibility?
You wouldn't need to buy a hundred good pieces of equipment. You wouldn't have to swap them on and off over and over, relying on shaky gut feelings.
"Behold. This is a top-grade upper armor I personally retrieved from the royal vault."
The surface looked like solidified lava glowing red-hot. Mana visibly overflowed from it.
The problem was...
◈ Compatibility: 3.1/100
◈ Slot: Upper Body
◈ The user's unique fire mana and the lava material have terrible compatibility. Prolonged wear will cause mana backlash. Long-term use will inflict a permanent internal injury debuff. You really gonna keep wearing this for real?
"It seems the rabble have been spreading suspicious rumors about my equipment lately. How ridiculous."
In short, what I really wanted to say was: 'Take that shit off right now, you idiot.'
My job was to convey this hopeless compatibility issue as politely and subtly as possible.
Or to make them something new.
There was one thing that genuinely surprised me.
The fact that even the top rankers' equipment had compatibility that was, without exception, complete garbage.
"Could you please take it off?"
"What did you say?"
"Doesn't it make your skin sting?"
"How did you—?!"
Another thing that surprised me was how these people would casually pitch a tent and stage a sit-in just to get one piece of gear.
"Aren't you going home?"
"I'm not leaving until you finish making my gloves and necklace!"
"Kill me if you want, but I'm not moving from here."
"If you don't leave, I'm going on strike."
"...You'd better sleep with one eye open. When you wake up, you might find yourself in my bed."
"The craftsman is not a public resource."
"Hmph, ridiculous."
The big shots who feared nothing... would even resort to outright threats.
And so, I became the one and only equipment craftsman.
Or more precisely, blacksmith-slash-tuner-slash-enchanter-slash...
Anyway, thanks to that, there wasn't a single quiet day.
I had no idea it would be this bad.
I really shouldn't have put up that advertisement.