Blacksmith Uncle Abigail's Priceless Gift

Blacksmith Abigail jolted awake—his eyes snapping open automatically to the phantom reveille trumpet he shouldn't hear anymore now that he was discharged. A glance at the clock showed 6 a.m. sharp. Right on the dot.

"Mm..."

He rose from bed and stretched, but there wasn't a trace of stiffness. His joints and muscles moved as smoothly as if he were in the middle of the day. How long had it been since he'd greeted the morning so refreshed? He could really feel his boosted physical stats now. The sharp rise in his bodily abilities seemed to have fully integrated through real combat in the dungeon, release of his desires, and rest.

"As expected, the effects of the Vitality Enhancement skill."

Skills were skills, after all—even at the low E-rank, the effect was undeniably clear. His balls felt heavy and full again, as if yesterday's thorough draining had been a lie, their weight impossible to ignore. His morning wood was erecting a massive tent, pulling the elastic waistband of his underwear away from his stomach. He briefly considered jerking off, but with his schedule today, he held off and got ready to head out.

He hadn't planned on it, but since he was meeting a woman after so long, he decided to put some effort into his appearance. He trimmed his eyebrows for the first time in ages, smoothed his skin, and picked his clothes carefully. Of course, his fashion sense was frozen at three years ago, before enlistment, so they suited his taste but who knew how others would see it.

Still, slacks and a shirt should at least give a clean first impression.

Slipping on white sneakers at the entrance, he stepped outside. It was early morning, but the streets buzzed with busy commuters. Hunters in dungeon gear heading out, supporters assisting them, trucks from dungeon merchants hauling goods—it was a scene he'd seen since childhood.

Normally, he'd be joining that crowd for the dungeon, but not today. His first stop was the mana metal workshop.

Seoul had several places handling mana metals, but he had a favorite from his father's days.

Weeeeng—clang—clang—

The workshop was already humming with activity. The grinding and hammering drowned out everything, so he bellowed for his uncle.

"Uncle! It's me!"

"Hm? Who's this? Yeoul, is that you?"

Among the workers, Abigail—safety goggles and mask on mid-polishing—paused and approached.

"Whoa, look how tall you've gotten. Army made you grow more, huh? Body's bulked up too? So, you're discharged?"

"Yeah, about a week ago. You're the same as ever, Uncle."

"What's a dwarf got to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠change in three years? Humans are the weird ones—barely twenty-odd years and that tiny baby turns into this giant. Never gets less strange, no matter how many times I see it."

The uncle Han Yeoul called "Uncle" was a dwarf. With the Tower's arrival, dungeons teeming with all sorts of subraces had popped up on Earth, including ones full of dwarves. Like other subraces, dwarves were friendly to humanity and shared their craftsmanship freely. Abigail was one such dwarf who'd emerged from a dungeon to pass on those skills.

He'd connected with Han Yeoul's father, a first-gen awakener back then, and set up this workshop. That bond had carried on to Yeoul today.

"So, what brings you? Need a weapon forged?"

Weapons handmade by Abigail commanded top dollar. Even after twenty-plus years of dwarves sharing tech on Earth, no human smith could surpass dwarf-made gear. Their value went without saying.

Yeoul, naturally, had no money for that.

"Ugh, no cash for that. Actually, I wanted to get this repaired."

"Hm, a dagger? Wait... where'd you get this?"

He'd pulled the dagger from his Inventory before arriving and showed it. Abigail's reaction was intense. Puzzled, Yeoul answered anyway.

"Loot from a dungeon boss. Something wrong with the dagger?"

"Dungeon? You hit a 5th-grade one or something?"

"No. Well... it's complicated..."

Yeoul pondered how much to tell. Abigail was trustworthy—a dwarf through and through. Dwarves prized trust and loyalty above all. Otherwise, someone like Yeoul with his trash mana affinity wouldn't casually meet one of Korea's rare dwarves. It was all thanks to his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠parents' bond. Hell, their uncle-nephew relationship was proof enough.

He decided to spill everything except his Unique Authority.

"...So that's how I took down the hidden boss and got the dagger."

After hearing it all, Abigail nodded like it clicked.

"That 10th-grade instance dungeon closing around noon yesterday—that was you? And this dagger was on the injured high goblin you carried out?"

"Yeah, that's it. I don't know the details either."

"Hm..."

Abigail eyed him and the dagger alternately, then retreated into the workshop's back and returned with a sword.

"Here, take this."

"Huh?"

"In exchange, I need to keep this dagger. Its performance blows this one away, so you'll like it. D-rank weapon with effects on durability drain, cutting power, and impact absorption."

Yeoul sneakily checked the sword's stats via his Status Window without Abigail noticing.

The info made him blurt out:

"You sure you didn't grab the wrong one?"

The sword Abigail tossed him was a masterpiece—solid in every basic sword metric. Not up to his current mainline work, but a D-rank like this took Earth's top smiths days of mana and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sweat. Especially longswords, the go-to for close combat hunters—those started at ten million won, skyrocketing to hundreds of millions with special effects. This wouldn't hit the top end, but three or four million at least.

Way too much for a niche dagger worth maybe half a mil at best.

But Abigail waved it off like nothing.

"I was gonna give you something for your discharge anyway. It's not a mistake—take it."

"No, even so..."

"Hey. Take ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it."

With eyes bulging and fist clenched like he'd deck him, Yeoul had no choice but to pocket the sword.

"Thanks, Uncle."

"There you go."

"But is that dagger really that big a deal?"

Abigail's satisfied smile hardened at the question.

"Yeah, important enough I might head back home. Don't pry—I can't say more."

From that, Yeoul guessed the dagger tied to the Tower. Subraces from dungeons were barred from spilling more Tower info than humans discovered themselves. They called it a pact with the Tower's gods—no details, leaving even the US in the dark. So nations pushed people into the Tower themselves, birthing the hunter market.

Anything Tower-related, Abigail couldn't elaborate. Yeoul knew better than to push and just thanked him again. Besides, the dagger's source was sleeping in his Inventory.

"Anything else you need?"

"Oh, right. I was gonna repair that dagger as a gift, but could you pick something similar in performance?"

"Gift? For who?"

"Met someone in the dungeon yesterday—want her in my fixed party."

Abigail raised a brow.

"That goblin 10th-grade one? Just rookies there—why gift a weapon to recruit?"

"She's a genius. Fresh from basic training, first dungeon, grabs a dagger and solos the boss. Guess what she said after? She mimicked my moves."

Even now, it sounded unreal. Abigail whistled.

"Damn. If that's true, a prodigy among prodigies. Bring her by sometime—now I'm curious."

"Will do."

"Hold on. Can't give junk to a talent like that."

Daggers were niche—not for throwing, but close combat—so Abigail rummaged in storage forever before emerging with a boxed dagger.

"Check it. From my apprentice days—similar specs."

Unlike Brina's Slightly Sharp Dagger of Wind, lower durability and no agility bonus, but it had Cutting Power Increase (Minor)—an effect worthy of a D-rank. System-listed as E-rank too—perfect match.

"That'll cost. One million won."

"Of course. But it's cheap?"

"You think I'd gouge you? Just settling a debt to your dad."

"Dad...?"

Mention of his father made Abigail slap his mouth, scratch his head awkwardly.

"Tch, forget it. Take it free. Gotta head home—out you go."

He vanished behind the workshop. Since Dad's disappearance, Abigail always dodged father-related talk. Guilt? Or did he know something—bound by rules? Was Dad's vanishing Tower-related?

No answers from brooding. Yeoul shook his head, boxed the gift dagger, and left the workshop.