Chapter 25
Chapter 25
Owner of a Workshop in a Ruined World (25)
In front of the workshop workbench.
I operated the [U-Link] and uploaded the carefully photographed images of the [Worn Military Machete].
The product name and description were written as casually as possible.
[Worn Military Machete]
–A little rusty, but the blade cuts well.
Only for those looking for something cheap.
No bargaining.
–150 UP
Picker, who had been watching beside me, spoke up with curiosity.
–Boss, are you only selling one?
“Listing too many from the start will attract suspicion. Right now, the priority is figuring out exactly how this market system operates.”
I pressed the confirm button to attempt [Register Sale].
But the screen didn’t proceed immediately.
Instead, a red notification window popped up.
[Notice: Union Market operates a physical inspection system to prevent fraud.]
[To complete item registration, deposit the item at the nearest Union Exchange Depot within 24 hours.]
[After deposit, a professional appraiser will verify performance and durability. The listing will activate once a final grade evaluation is completed.]
“…Huh. Strict.”
This wasn’t a secondhand marketplace where items sold just by uploading photos.
Thinking about it, it made sense.
The world had collapsed.
People traded without ever seeing each other face to face.
Scammers selling rocks wrapped in foil as silver or watered-down gasoline must be everywhere.
“Inconvenient… but…”
I stroked my chin while studying the screen.
“Which also means items listed here have at least a minimum quality guarantee.”
There was a reason people paid expensive fees to use Union Market.
Trust.
The assurance that they wouldn’t be scammed.
And that trust was guaranteed by both the system and professional experts.
But this also created a new challenge for me.
Professional appraisers.
Experts with blacksmith-type classes personally examining my product.
Would the intentionally crude appearance I created fool their eyes?
A pitch-black night under steady drizzle.
Wearing a vinyl poncho raincoat, I headed toward the Union unmanned exchange depot.
Picker was conducting aerial reconnaissance fifteen meters overhead.
Three [Honeybee] drones were monitoring the surrounding two-hundred-meter radius without blind spots.
Fortunately, the rain wasn’t too heavy.
The drones produced by the workshop had waterproof coatings anyway, so I wasn’t worried about malfunctions.
“Picker, forward scan status?”
–Safe, Boss! No mutant activity. Human biosignals zero. Area completely clean!
I had deliberately chosen a rainy night.
If someone attempted to track or follow me, the rain would erase both scent and footprints.
The road ahead was quiet.
The unmanned exchange depots were placed in open school fields for trader safety.
A bunker installed in wide-open spaces away from ruins or buildings where raiders could hide.
And most school fields in the area had one.
The system automatically assigned a depot so traders wouldn’t encounter each other.
The depot assigned to me was located in a school field near Hyochang Park.
“We’re here.”
The moment I passed through the school gate, I saw it.
A strange structure rising from the center of the field.
I froze.
What I imagined was something like a convenience-store locker or ATM booth.
But the thing in front of me…
“…That’s practically a fortress.”
–Wow, Boss. That reinforced alloy armor looks at least thirty centimeters thick. Even a tank shell might bounce off it.
Picker was right.
A massive gray alloy bunker.
But the real shock stood on both sides of the entrance.
Large metallic constructs.
–Whoa, those are automated turret cannons! Judging by the bore size, probably 12.7mm rounds. If you get hit by that, you won’t even have a body left.
Just as I was overwhelmed by the deadly design—
The moment I stepped inside the twenty-meter perimeter of the track line, the bunker reacted.
Whirr—CLACK!
With a chilling mechanical sound, two turret guns rotated instantly and aimed directly at me.
–B-Boss! Lasers!
Red laser dots appeared on my poncho.
More precisely—one on my forehead, another on my heart.
[Warning. Unauthorized Awakened detected.]
[Authenticate ID within 10 seconds or lethal force will be deployed.]
[10… 9…]
A mechanical female voice echoed through speakers.
“Shit!”
Instinctively, I reached into the inner pocket of my raincoat.
One wrong move and I’d become a bullet sponge.
I quickly pulled out the [U-Link] and checked the back.
A rice-grain-sized LED installed on the phone blinked green.
I let out a breath.
Good. Synchronization complete.
Before leaving the workshop, I had prepared something in advance.
The Thunder device had its GPS signal fixed to Mapo Shelter.
But if I came here and authenticated it like that?
On the satellite map, the user would appear to be in Mapo while requesting access in Hyochang Park.
So before leaving, I switched the spoofing circuit to Route Simulation Mode.
The device created a fake travel path, making it appear as if my coordinates had moved naturally from Mapo Shelter to this school field.
Timing was everything.
The fake satellite position had to arrive here at the exact moment I did.
The green light meant the deception worked perfectly.
I confidently held up the ID code displayed on the screen.
Fortunately, the turret sensors recognized the code immediately.
[Identity confirmed. Welcome, Thunder.]
The turrets returned to their idle positions.
–Whoa, Boss. My heart almost stopped.
“Yeah… Union Tech is more impressive than I thought.”
Those turrets especially.
They were exactly what I dreamed of.
“Think about it, Picker. What if I installed two or three of those in strategic positions?”
–Hmm… every mutant approaching would become minced meat.
“Exactly.”
Then I could just wake up in the morning and casually collect the corpses and materials.
No more risking my life with spears.
No more dangerous scavenging trips.
A system that hunted and harvested automatically.
“Not just automated production—automated hunting too. That’s the kind of workshop owner I want to become.”
–Amazing vision, Boss!
“I’m definitely getting those turret blueprints someday. If not, I’ll recreate something similar.”
Honestly, I wanted to dismantle the turret and take it.
With my Disassembly ability, it would be possible.
Union Tech’s turret had just given me a powerful motivation.
I approached the kiosk attached to the bunker entrance.
[Insert item for deposit.]
Buzz—
A thick armored hatch opened.
A conveyor belt extended inside.
Even there, sensors and scanners flashed constantly.
They weren’t just scanning the item.
They were scanning my body as well.
I took the [Worn Military Machete] from my bag and placed it into the slot.
Clank.
The hatch closed.
A processing-complete message appeared.
Union’s surveillance system was far stricter than expected.
It felt like every action of the user was recorded.
Using Union Market with your real identity would be extremely dangerous.
Union Central Logistics Hub – Inspection Room 3
A massive underground hall the size of several football fields combined.
The place was loud with conveyor belts and workers shouting while sorting items.
In the center of it all stood an elderly man wearing a team leader armband.
His white hair matched his irritated expression.
Inspection Team 3 Leader.
A C-Grade Blacksmith-class Awakened named Jo Pildu.
Commonly called Old Man Jo.
“Hey, Assistant Manager Kim. You seriously sent this as an A-grade rare material?”
Old Man Jo grabbed a mutant leather from the conveyor belt.
“Half the leather is melted! What am I supposed to make with this? Underwear patches? Reject it and deduct ten credit points from the sender!”
“Yes, sir!”
The subordinate worker wiped sweat from his forehead and tossed the item onto the disposal rail.
Old Man Jo sighed.
Thousands of items arrived every day.
Less than one percent were worth anything.
Sorting through raider garbage had left him exhausted.
Then something caught his eye.
A tray rattling along the belt.
[Seller ID: Thunder (Rank: Bronze)]
[Item Name: Worn Military Machete]
A worker glanced at it and frowned.
The handle was wrapped with cheap plastic tape.
The blade was covered in reddish rust.
Pure scrap.
“Sigh… someone just sent their old junk.”
The worker was about to reject it.
“Wait.”
Old Man Jo grabbed the worker’s wrist.
His eyes weren’t on the machete itself.
They were locked on one tiny line in the floating system window.
[The craftsman’s delicate touch is impressive.]
Old Man Jo’s eyes twitched.
Only those with production-class Awakenings understood this phrase.
It was a system evaluation message.
Even as a C-Grade blacksmith, Old Man Jo had only seen that praise a handful of times in ten years.
And now it appeared on this piece of scrap?
Was it a system error?
“Give it to me.”
He picked up the machete himself.
The rough texture scratched his palm.
It looked like a neglected piece of junk.
But—
“…Huh?”
The moment he gripped the handle, a quiet exclamation escaped him.
The grip was perfect.
It’s definitely heavy…
But when he rotated his wrist, the blade followed like an extension of his arm.
The center of gravity didn’t drag forward.
It moved perfectly inside his grasp.
“This feeling…”
Old Man Jo walked to a test oak log beside the inspection table.
He steadied his breath and flicked his wrist lightly.
Whoosh—
A chillingly quiet cutting sound.
No loud impact.
Instead—
The blade slid halfway through the log like slicing tofu.
“….”
Old Man Jo swallowed.
The materials were cheap alloy—probably recycled from a vehicle leaf spring.
But the creator understood the physical limits and elasticity of that material perfectly.
Heat treatment timing.
Forging cycles.
Sharpening angles.
“This balance isn’t just from an ability.”
Old Man Jo trembled.
Whoever made this had to be at least B-Grade.
Possibly A-Grade.
But something puzzled him.
He accessed the seller profile.
[ID: Thunder]
[Rank: Bronze]
[Transactions: 76]
[Primary Activity: Non-Awakened raiding and scrap collection]
Old Man Jo frowned.
“No matter how I look at it, he’s just a low-level raider. How did someone like this obtain such a masterpiece?”
Even if he had made it himself—
Why let it rust like this?
Any true craftsman would never allow such treatment.
“…Ah.”
Old Man Jo stroked his chin.
“I see.”
“This guy… isn’t the creator.”
Someone else made the blade.
Thunder simply used it like a butcher’s knife until it looked like this.
“A master blade… in the hands of a butcher. What a waste.”
Old Man Jo didn’t simply press Approve Sale.
Instead, he opened the system’s [Report] menu.
[Register Interest Target]
[Target ID: Thunder]
Reason: High probability of connection to an unknown high-level craftsman (estimated B-Grade or higher).
Request tracking and surveillance.
Only then did Old Man Jo stamp the [Sale Approval] seal.