The Fist Demon Gauntlet

"Ugh... Understood."

Fergus nodded at Carpe's proposal, even though he thought it was pointless.

He was desperate enough to grasp at any straw—no matter how thin—and business had been dead for so long that he had time to spare anyway.

"This way, please."

Unlike the cramped counter, the back of the shop was surprisingly spacious. As they walked, Carpe caught a glimpse of the forge workshop; it hadn't been used in ages, with not even a hint of lingering heat.

"You make items here too, huh?"

"It's nothing to be proud of. Like enchanting, I learned the family heirloom forging techniques... but I can't make proper gear, so it's just sitting idle."

He added that he'd at least hammered away a few years back to keep his skills sharp, but now even that felt pointless amid his doubts.

"Here we are."

With that, Fergus yanked down hard on a handle mounted to the wall.

A grinding clank-clank! echoed as a hidden door in the floor swung open, revealing stairs leading underground.

"Please wait a moment. I'll fetch a lantern."

Fergus stepped away briefly, and Carpe glanced down the stairs. Thick dust blanketed everything—clearly untouched for years.

-He probably avoids it 'cause it hurts too much to look. But now some punk's demanding to see it—can you blame the guy?

"......Just open it. Open it."

It was starting to feel a bit heavy.

What if Unlock didn't work? He'd boasted so confidently...

"Sorry for the wait. I'll lead the way."

Fergus returned with the lantern and descended first. Carpe followed cautiously.

The basement wasn't deep. The stairs ended quickly, opening to a massive iron door.

"The heirloom chest is inside."

Fergus pushed the door open effortlessly—no lock in sight.

Creeeak.

"This must be it."

Sure enough, a huge chest sat there, radiating extraordinary presence at a glance.

Its surface gleamed with gold fittings and jewels, intricate engravings bearing the touch of a master artisan.

And right in the center: a keyhole.

Fergus eyed it briefly, then wiped away the dust with a cloth.

"It's been ages since I came down here. Need anything else?"

"Nah, I'm good. It's just a skill—no tools required."

"I see. Fascinating. Other keymasters usually need catalysts."

'Eh... that's what it was?'

-Duh. Even a lockpicking skill needs magic materials like 'Mimic Cores.' Unlock's straight-up broken.

"Is something wrong? You trailed off..."

"Oh, no. Just thinking."

Whew.

Carpe steadied his breath and examined the chest.

'Legendary chest, huh.'

Good. Should open fine.

After all, he'd cracked one in the rat dungeon already. Confidence surged.

"......Huh?"

Then a nagging thought hit.

Unlock's box-opening effect let him open one box per day without MP cost—the first one found that day. No saving it; it triggered automatically.

Problem was...

'Didn't I already open one today?'

With Hanjo in that sea cave dungeon—he'd burned it on a puny Rare chest welcoming them at the entrance...

-Talk about timing. MP cost scales by grade, right?

'Hold on.'

It had cost a ton, he remembered.

Panicking, Carpe checked the skill window.

'Five... hundred?'

Cold sweat beaded. How much MP did he have...?

Carpe swallowed and pulled up his status.

"Phew. Close one."

Relief washed over him. Ten short, but bonus stats could fix that easy.

"You look pale. Problem?"

"Kinda low on MP, but it's fine. Manageable."

"How much short?"

"Like, 10?"

"Wait here. Back soon."

Fergus headed upstairs, returning with a bracelet.

"Borrow this."

'Rental system too?'

-Players can too. Fees scale with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠grade, though.

'Wild.'

Carpe nodded, triggering another alert.

Solid fixed stat boost. Carpe thanked Fergus and equipped it.

"Let's do this."

He steadied again, placed his hand on the chest.

And.

"Unlock."

Click. Click. Click.

The mechanisms disengaged one by one. It worked perfectly.

"I-Impossible!"

Fergus gaped in shock, eyes wide as the chest opened.

Click. Click. Click.

About 30 seconds later, all locks released, lid swinging free.

"Ugh... hngh... hnnngh!"

Fergus dropped to his knees, sobbing.

The family chains binding him for years—finally broken.

* * *

"Truly, thank you! My benefactor! Come to think, I never asked your name."

"Carpe."

"Thank you, Carpe. Truly. We'll etch your name in our records—lifelong savior."

"You've kept your word, Carpe, so I'll keep mine. On our family's name, the best reward."

Fergus led him to the forge, tinkering briefly.

Whoosh!

The magic furnace roared to life. The dormant workshop awakened.

"Visiting for enchanting means you have gear, right?"

"Yeah."

"What to enhance?"

"Uh, this one's my current weapon..."

Carpe pulled Green Skin Slayer from inventory and handed it over.

Fergus inspected it.

"Decent sword, but clear limits. Enhancing won't yield much. If you're open... may I craft one?"

"Hell yes! Please!"

"Haha, grateful. Palm print here."

A large wooden board with gray putty.

"Hand stamp?"

"Yes. Artisans read people through their palms."

Size, muscles, even palm lines held data.

Essential for custom gear.

"Got it."

More serious than expected—Carpe's pulse quickened.

"Remove gloves first..."

"Do you fight gloved?"

"Yeah?"

"Then stamp with them on—as you fight."

"Ah."

Carpethunked his Enigma-clad palm down.

"Sword? Or preferred weapon?"

"Hm..."

Carpe wasn't picky—arena vets tried everything.

Swords, spears to staves, scythes. Confidence in any.

But best was...

"Gauntlets, please."

Nothing simpler—or cooler!

"Haha, noted. Mind if I examine your hand separately?"

"Sure."

Fergus scrutinized, eyes lighting up.

"Magnificent gauntlets. Not my specialty, but masterful craft."

True to lore as family prodigy, he saw Enigma's worth instantly.

"Mage... and crafting skills too."

"Hands that obvious?"

"They hold much. Done."

Satisfied, Fergus took position at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the anvil, hefting the family hammer.

"Watch freely. Might pick up tips with your crafting."

He loaded ingot and hammered.

Clang! Clang! Rhythmic echoes thrilled.

-Hey.

'Yeah?'

-Your palm's just avatar based on real body? No real training, no muscle gain—so why bother?

'...Bro. Zero romance in your soul?'

Master pouring heart into it—cheer at least!

-Just curious!

'Shh and watch.'

-...

Clang! Clang!

Even amateurs saw genius in fluid strikes.

Sucked in like a trance.

No gamey rhythm—true artisanry.

-What? Did you see that notif—

But Cheonma's shock went unheard.

Carpe's eyes glued to the hammer, ignoring alerts.

Time passed.

"Huff. Haaah."

Fergus panted. Gauntlets gleamed on the anvil—done.

"Incredible work."

"Haha, felt good after ages. But not over."

"Eh? Looks finished..."

"Crafting yes—but we're enchanters too."

Fergus doused it in special solution from the heirloom chest, hammering anew.

Another divine hammering storm.

"Complete."

Grinning, Fergus handed over the gauntlets.

"......Whoa."

-...This busted game! Crossing lines again!

"Fitting your lordly stature."

Hidden quest reward—sweeter than dreamed.