The Last Day of the Kingdom

Clang...! Clang...! Clang...!

Every time I brought the hammer down, red sparks showered the air. The intense heat radiating from the furnace washed over me. My entire body had been drenched in sweat for a long time now. My arms were beginning to tremble, and my throat was parched, but I couldn't stop. What I was hammering right now was the spine of an Ancient Dragon. It was a Legendary-grade material.

Hammering requires a specific speed and rhythm. You have to grasp the state of the material through its color and heat, then utilize the proper rhythm to strike it. That was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the most fundamental principle of a blacksmith. If you strayed even a little, you risked ruining the material. And there was another reason I couldn't stop. That was—

Whiz—! Pop, pop, pop.

Damn it. It’s already started.

I could hear the faint sound of fireworks beginning to drift in from outside. Yes, the reason I couldn't stop was exactly this. What I was doing right now—this was the final day of service for the game Kingdom of Fire.

A sense of reality began to hit me. Is it really right for me to be doing this on the very last day? Shouldn't I be out there like those people, enjoying the final moments of a game that defined an era, soaking in the lingering emotions?

"Damn it. Why did I have to choose a blacksmith?"

This was a VR game. The first VR device to implement 95% of sensory reality. And this game was the biggest hit that drove the explosive popularity of the device. Well, it had been pushed aside by other games now, but in the beginning, it was a global phenomenon, with servers crashing from the sheer volume of players.

Adrenaline-pumping, realistic combat. Vast oceans, fields, deserts, jungles. And over two hundred diverse jobs. People dove into the game in search of the adventures they had dreamed of as children. I was one of them.

It was a new world. The food I tasted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠here for the first time, the new landscapes—everything made my heart race. I was 18 years old back then.

I didn't choose to be a blacksmith for any particular reason. You know that feeling sometimes, don't you? The urge to do something different from everyone else. For me, that was the blacksmith.

When I first followed an NPC into the smithy, something just... clicked. Taking the red-hot iron from the furnace with tongs, placing it on the anvil, and striking it with a hammer. The sensation transmitted through my hands, the metal gradually taking shape, the flying sparks—for some reason, it triggered a rush of dopamine. One by one, the things I completed gave me such a strange sense of satisfaction. That was when I decided. Ah, this is the path I must take.

When the game first launched, the developers and operators often held live broadcasts. They would reveal newly released jobs and regions each time. I remember watching those broadcasts while eating, hoping to get some new information.

A reward? The spoon I was holding paused mid-air. [And the next news we have is—]

The operators moved on to the next topic without any further explanation. Something special given to the number one player in the world. What on earth could it be? A special reward. Would they give me a one-of-a-kind game item? No, that couldn't be it. It was a game played by millions of people worldwide; they wouldn't end it with something so trivial. Maybe they were giving away shares in the game company? My thoughts spiraled.

At the time, I was obsessed with the word "reward." Men are designed to be drawn to such things. There’s a reason One Piece is such a massive hit. But the fact that they were giving a reward was only briefly mentioned among countless other news items. Even when I searched for it, no related information came up. That was when a sudden thought occurred to me. Maybe not many people know about this?

The announcement was made during a live broadcast, but most people check updates through patch notes. There was no mention of the reward in the patch notes. That meant only the people who heard it during the live broadcast knew about this fact.

Of course, I hadn't been aiming for it seriously from the start. But the game system made it exponentially harder to gain experience as you leveled up. It was so difficult that even when the game's popularity began to fade and wither, you could count the number of people over level 60 on one hand.

Gulp. I remembered that moment. "There is a very special reward for the first person to reach the level cap. Please look forward to it." The excitement I felt back then.

Could it be? Is it possible? I checked the statistics. I set the job filter to "All" and clicked on "Worldwide"—

I was 2nd in South Korea. 7th in the world. I had known vaguely. After spending all day in the smithy and occasionally going outside to find materials, I rarely saw anyone with a higher level than me. I just thought that crafting classes were easy to level up. But that wasn't it.

Scroll. Scroll. No matter how far I scrolled down the statistics, I couldn't find a single non-combat class, let alone a blacksmith. Well, was that to be expected? In reality, a hyper-realistic game didn't work out so well for crafting classes. Sitting in front of a hot furnace in a smithy, hammering away all day—it was a job that no one could do unless it suited their aptitude. Since everyone left one by one, complaining of boredom, eventually, you couldn't find a single blacksmith user.

'If I do this well, I might actually make it.'

That was how it started. I became even more immersed in the game to obtain that reward. As a result—

I glanced up at the experience bar for a moment. Even on the last day, there was no one at the level cap. And my experience was currently at 99%. Surely, if I finished making this, I would hit the level cap. A Legendary-grade item. That was all that remained.

"But seriously, damn it. My arms are killing me."

It had already been three hours. No, is this even right? Even so, I’m at the level cap! I had crafted Legendary-grade items several times before, but this one was taking an unusually long time. Pop, pop, pop. Pop, pop, pop. The sound of fireworks outside was getting faster. This—could it be that I won't make it?

Clang...! Clang...! Still, there was no other way. I had no choice but to keep hammering. I had poured nearly 10 years of my life into this. If the service ended before I finished this, I might still be regretting it even when I’m an old man. "Grandpa, are you talking about that again? It must be time for your medicine." I’d probably just get nagged by my grandson.

Pop, pop, pop! Pop, pop, pop—!

Just as anxiety surged with the sound of fireworks reaching their climax, a flash of blue light burst before my eyes, and a notification ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠window appeared.

Countless notifications followed one after another. I tossed the sword I had worked so hard to create aside and skipped through the notifications. Where is it? Where? [Congratulations.]

Then, a translucent window flashed into view. It wasn't flashy, but the large letters were engraved clearly, one by one.

"Damn it! I did it!"

I shouted, clenching my fist tightly. I was alone in the smithy anyway. Adrenaline surged through my brain. 10 years. It had been 10 years. I had been running for 10 years for this day.

The status window displayed the text slowly, one character at a time. It was there. It really existed. The reward was real. Throughout the time I played the game, I had a lingering anxiety in one corner of my mind. In truth, it had only been mentioned once during a broadcast and wasn't written down anywhere else. So, I had ominous thoughts that maybe it was a slip of the tongue or an idea that was scrapped. But that wasn't it. It actually existed. The reward!!

"Yeah, damn it, you should give it. After doing this much, it's only right to give it."

I laughed for no reason. My heart was pounding. So, what was it? What were they giving me? I waited, staring intently, expecting the status window to change. But something was strange. No matter how long I waited, the status window didn't change. It had stopped after writing "A reward is granted to—".

What is this? Is it a bug? What are they giving me? I grew impatient. As I stared blankly at the status window, the screen began to turn translucent irregularly, its colors flickering. Through the translucent screen, I could see my studio apartment. The smithy and the dark room were visible simultaneously.

"Oh. Don't tell me."

No. Please. Whiz.

Then, a translucent white window appeared.

It was the standby screen for the VR device. What is this? Wait a minute. Damn it. What is this? Did the game shut down? No. Don't play games with me. I frantically groped the bed. I managed to pull out the phone that had been wedged between the bed and the wall. No way. No way.

I turned on the smartphone screen with trembling hands.

Ah. The date had changed. Service termination. It was over. Just in case, I turned the VR device off and on. It only displayed a screen saying the game could not be found. I entered the community. I clicked on a random post. A photo taken with the final fireworks. Back. I scanned the titles as I scrolled. It seemed I wasn't the only one who couldn't get in. Everyone was sharing their own farewells.

My hands went limp. Thud. The smartphone fell onto the bed. "......." Is this the end? After 10 years? That damn reward—I spent years trying to get it!

"Is this... right?"

Only the faint light of the screen illuminated the pitch-black room. "......." The empty room. It only contained the basic options: a refrigerator and a desk. Moldy wallpaper. Plastic bottles and lunch box containers scattered here and there. I stared blankly at the ceiling. It didn't feel real. I couldn't believe that everything had ended like this.

Gulp. Gulp. I chugged a bottle of water. The lukewarm water slid down my throat into my stomach. "....." Only then did I calm down a bit. Hmm. It’s the end. Like this. Surprisingly, I felt calm. I wasn't as angry as I thought I would be. To my surprise, I felt no emotion at all. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve. 'Well, it’s not like I didn't know.'

The notice regarding the service termination had been out for months. And I had half-thought it might end before I reached the level cap. Also, I had thought there might not be a reward. I had told myself not to expect too much. To avoid disappointment. I had imagined the worst in advance, layering it two or three times, like packing a parachute.

"Yeah." I chuckled. Yeah. I thought it would be like this. Even if there was a reward, now that the game was over, I wouldn't have been able to sell it anywhere. It was inertia. I had just been doing it with the mindset that I had to see the end.

"......." Silence flowed through the empty room. As I sat there, something slowly welled up. A sensation of something quietly collapsing in a corner of my heart. It was as if my body had realized before my mind that I had lost something precious. My chest ached. It was a terribly empty feeling, for which "futility" was not enough.

“The reward… what could it have been?”

A mutter that wasn't directed at anyone escaped my lips. There was nothing to answer me.

***

A few days passed. I don't know exactly how many. I hadn't used the blackout curtains in a long time, so night and day had been swapped for ages. I had nothing to do. My routine for the past 10 years had barely changed. Wake up in the morning and log into the VR. Enter the smithy and hammer away. If I got hungry, I’d have a simple meal and go back in. I’d make items until I got sleepy, then log off and sleep. That was my daily life.

I had never even worked a part-time job. Money came in when I sold items. Recently, I had been focusing on leveling up quickly, so my bank balance had been hitting rock bottom for a long time. But all those routines had vanished overnight. The time I spent lying still, staring at the ceiling without doing anything, grew longer. Occasionally, I would fiddle with my phone and fall asleep, and when I woke up, I would repeat it.

Once, I tried entering the game community. The bulletin board was already closed. Even seeing that, I felt nothing. I just put the phone down.

One day, a package arrived. It contained apples. There was a note on top.

She must have been worried about her unfilial son, who didn't even make calls often. Occasionally, Mom would send side dishes or fruit like this. I opened the box and took out an apple, but I didn't have a knife to peel it. I bought a fruit knife at a convenience store. I returned to my studio and tore open the plastic packaging. The knife was in my hand. At that moment, my hand stopped.

From the handle to the tip of the blade. I felt where the weight was leaning. The balance point was slightly tilted toward the blade. It was because the handle material was too light. The blade angle was approximately 15 degrees. It wasn't bad for a fruit knife, but the sharpening in the middle was uneven, causing clumps. 'This—if I re-sharpen the base of the blade and add a counterweight to the handle to balance it—'

That was when I thought that far. 'What am I doing right now?' It was a fruit knife I bought for 3,000 won at a convenience store. Sharpening it, adding a counterweight... it was all useless thinking. I put the knife down in the sink. I turned off the lights and lay down on the bed. But my hand felt strangely bothered. The feeling of holding the knife. The feeling of gauging the weight and examining the quality of the material. My hand was itching.

Suddenly, I realized that my fingers had been moving in my half-asleep state. The feeling of holding a hammer. The weight. The habit of holding my palm out to gauge the temperature of the molten metal. The fingertips that moved to engrave mana circuits onto weapons. The game was over, but it seemed the things that had soaked into my body over 10 years hadn't disappeared. An impulse to make something welled up to my throat. But there was nothing to make, and nowhere to make it.

***

Days like that continued. Knock. Knock. Knock. I heard a knocking sound at the door. What is it? I hadn't ordered anything. And there was no one to visit. Did Mom send more side dishes? I approached the entrance with my messy hair just as it was. And I opened the door.

There was no one there. An empty hallway. Only the elevator indicator light was glowing faintly at the end. 'Did I hear things?' Yeah, I guess that's what happens when you stay home too much. Just as I was about to close the door—

Flutter— Something that had been wedged between the floor and the door gap fluttered and fell back to the floor. 'What is this?'

It was a small piece of paper the size of a business card. But the material was unique. It wasn't paper, nor was it plastic. It was rough, like hanji (traditional Korean paper), yet strangely thick.

Only the address was written on the front. What is this? I flipped it over. A small hammer emblem was engraved on it. I flipped it back and forth. What is this? I couldn't tell. It had too little information to be a business card. Is it a new type of scam? Or did someone from next door just drop it? While I was thinking that, my fingertips stopped.

A hammer? A hammer. Definitely. It was a hammer.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"……A smithy?"

No way. A word flashed through my mind. Reward.

…Nah. I chuckled, a hollow laugh. It was nonsense. The game was already over, and I hadn't received any separate contact. I had even asked over the phone a few days ago, just in case, and they said there was no such thing as a reward from the start. So they denied it, and now they decided to give compensation? To prevent talk later? But they would know that there was no evidence. Logically, would such a large company leave a business card without any separate contact?

'…Then what is it? Did they really just scatter these to advertise a smithy?'

That didn't seem right either. What kind of smithy in this day and age? Of course, they might exist, but would they advertise a smithy like this? Without even a single line of text, just a business card? I rubbed the back of the card with my thumb. In the dim sunlight shining through the window—something sparkled on the engraved hammer emblem.

In a corner of my chest, which had been empty for days, something small began to pound.