Two-Track Growth

Sitting cross-legged on the rickety wooden platform in the side room, I gazed quietly at the single bent ring-pommel sword resting on my knee in the darkness. It was a worthless lump of scrap ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠whose blade life had completely ended after bending like taffy while blocking a bandit's iron mace in the battle against the Yellow Turban remnants.

Time to get started.

My heart began pounding with a pleasant tension. As the night deepened, the mana pool deep in my dantian was brimming fully with 6 mana, ready at any moment to fling open the door to the Subspace Forge.

I drew in a familiar breath and murmured the command softly into the empty air.

"Status Window."

A clear, crisp mechanical chime rang out, tearing through the pitch-black darkness as a dazzling blue system hologram floated onto my retina. Every night before entering the subspace, I made it a ritual to check my abilities and mana status.

But today, as I glanced over it absentmindedly, my eyes locked onto one corner of the status window like they'd been nailed there.

"Huh...?"

A dazed mutter slipped from my lips. Even after rubbing my eyes and looking again, the number on the blue panel was unmistakably changed.

"Strength... 11?"

I blinked in disbelief. My strength had been stuck at the pathetic '10' ever since I first landed in this Three Kingdoms era. Somehow, without me noticing, it had risen by 1.

No wonder...

I lifted my right arm and clenched and unclenched my fist lightly. Come to think of it, it was strange. Today during the day, while Master Yeom was away escorting the cart, I'd stripped off my upper clothes and swung a heavy iron hammer all day long at the forge. Normally, my weak strength-10 muscles would scream on the verge of tearing, my shoulder joints swelling up so bad I couldn't even lift my arms at night.

Sure, vitality had risen to 52, but that only meant endurance, recovery, and life force—it was different from the raw physical power needed to smash and withstand heavy metal chunks.

Yet today, the hammer had felt mysteriously lighter than usual, and the impact transferring to the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠metal had felt heavier, more solid. I'd chalked up the remaining energy in my arms after a full day of hammering to 'just getting the knack for it,' but it wasn't technique—it was an actual stat increase.

I stroked my chin, lost in deep thought.

How did strength go up? It's not from subspace rewards.

As the thoughts chained together, a fundamental fact I'd overlooked flashed through my mind.

This status window isn't some mass-produced VR game's generic one. It's a hunter's status window.

On the bus to the Hunter Bureau in modern Korea, an orc's spear from a gate that ripped open in the middle of the road pierced my heart. At the moment of death, the system awakened like a miracle, and right after, I possessed and revived in the body of this unknown Three Kingdoms porter, Aman.

In other words, I'd gained the hunter system as an awakener, but I was a total novice who never got tutorials or training on how modern hunters handled it or raised stats. I'd just vaguely assumed from fantasy novels and games that 'level up or complete quests to raise stats.'

But this isn't a world where dungeons pop open like in modern times.

The puzzle pieces in my head started snapping together at terrifying speed. This world had no orcs or goblins like the one that skewered me. No ambient mana floating around to naturally strengthen awakeners. The people here were just ordinary humans building power through brutal physical training and qi.

If I can't hunt monsters to level up, how does my blacksmith job gain experience and strengthen my body?

The answer was already fully present in my day today. Because my job was blacksmith. Just as a hunter grows by shooting arrows and hunting, for a blacksmith, heating metal in fire and swinging a heavy hammer—that act itself was job 'training' and 'hunting.'

The massive experience and rewards (vitality, mana increases) from completing items in the subspace forge were important, but no less so were the sweat drops from labor in the real world, accumulating in real-time under the system.

The grueling physical labor of enduring the forge's heat all day in the real smithy, slamming down a heavy hammer hundreds, thousands of times. To a normal person, it'd just be backbreaking drudgery leading to illness and worn-out joints. But for me, blessed by the system, each repetitive motion tore and recombined muscle fibers, converting into 'strength' stat experience.

"So the result of days of bone-wearying hammer swings in the real world... showed up as strength +1."

A chilling thrill-mixed hollow laugh escaped my lips. This was a massive discovery. The subspace only opened once a day for 6 minutes. I'd been boiling inside, thinking the rest of my day was wasted on odd jobs because of that fatal time limit.

But no.

During the day, go mad swinging hammers and hauling scrap at Master Yeom's forge to train physical stats like strength, agility, vitality through real-world grind. At night, use that honed body to open the subspace, forge mana, job levels, and miraculous weapons. Two-track growth was possible.

"Ha, haha... hahahaha!"

In the darkness, I let out a low, beast-like laugh.

"Fine, let's hammer till my bones grind to dust."

Words I'd normally spit out in desperation now carried an irrepressible cheer and confidence.

"Subspace Opening!"

Whoosh—! With my crisp, confident shout, a chunk of mana drained refreshingly from my dantian. At the same time, the dark, musty air in the side room warped violently and began evaporating into the void.

Flash—. I blinked, and instead of the soft straw mat, the firm, level clay floor pressed against my straw sandals. My vision brightened to reveal even sturdier brick walls, the solidly planted steel anvil, and the massive furnace roaring red in welcome. My level 2-evolved, perfect and cozy sanctuary.

A red timer blinked in the corner of my vision, starting a merciless but heart-pounding countdown. Without hesitation, I gripped the dented ring-pommel sword in my right hand. I clamped the middle of the bent blade with the stiff tongs hanging by the anvil and thrust it unhesitatingly into the center of the seething charcoal pile.

Siiiizz—! Sizz—! I snatched the handle of the huge leather bellows with my left arm and pumped furiously, throwing my full body weight into it. Vitality 52's stable cardiopulmonary endurance kept my rough breaths in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠steady rhythm, and today's freshly updated strength 11 made the heavy bellows push and pull lighter and snappier.

"Heat up!"

A storm of wind sucked into the furnace, flames surging wildly. In just over a minute of furious bellowing, the blade plunged in the furnace lost its steel-blue hue, glowing deep cherry red. The perfect moment when the metal's grain, bent like taffy from stress, softened under the heat.

"Hup!"

I snatched the tongs and laid the heat-soaked sword horizontally on the steel anvil. Then I hefted the heavy wrought-iron hammer in my right hand. Veins bulging blue on my forearm. Using my waist's torque, I raised the hammer high overhead and slammed it down like lightning at the worst-bent center curve of the blade.

Claaaang—!! A sharp, exhilarating explosion rocked the forge. The steel anvil rebounded the full force to the metal, and the hammer's recoil no longer threatened to shatter my wrist joint like before. My slightly stronger forearms and grip absorbed and withstood the massive shock without a tremor.

Clang—! Claaaang—!! Clang—!! I hammered madly, yet terrifyingly precisely in succession. Red sparks flew like fireworks, stinging my sweat-soaked shoulders, but a madman's grin flashed on my lips.

"Straighten! Align the spine!"

The bent blade began correcting to a straight line under the hammer's merciless blows. A high-difficulty finishing process sharpening the edge even sleeker and keener.

As the heat cooled and the metal turned dark red, the ring-pommel sword had regained its perfect straight form and chillingly sharp edge, as if it had never bent.

"That's it."

I tonged the forged sword and plunged it without hesitation into the oil barrel by the anvil.

Sizzleeee—!!! Oil boiled madly, white smoke exploding to fill the cramped forge.

With trembling hands, I pulled the tongs from the barrel. The blade, oil-soaked and cooled to a somber black-gray straight line.

"Haa, done."

I glanced at the corner timer. Expecting it to be teetering at 0 seconds, my eyes widened at the red number.

"A whole minute left?"

A stunned mutter escaped. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Before, finishing anything always left the 5 minutes laughably short, chasing the clock in a frenzy at the end.

But today was different. Mana increase extended total time to 6 minutes, sure, but I'd flawlessly restored this mangled, taffy-bent weapon—including tempering—in just '5 minutes' of complex work.

My skill... skyrocketed beyond belief. This wasn't the system puppeteering my hands. My proficiency had leaped through experience, amplified by strength 11, exploding my speed and efficiency. Overwhelming realization hit as the timer ticked toward 0, and dazzling golden system windows cascaded like a waterfall on my retina.

"Mana... +1!"

The moment I confirmed the message, a prickling thrill shot up my spine.

"7 minutes."

Gripping the oil-soaked E-grade ring-pommel sword tight, I curled my lips in a mad grin. This miraculous time increasing minute by minute. Now, in these 7 minutes, I could forge heavier, more intricate, monstrous weapons that didn't exist in this world—with ample margin.

My vision warped sharply once more. The acrid oil smell, the heavy clay floor—all scattered into the void in an instant.

Flash—. I blinked, and I was back sitting on the quiet, dark wooden platform in the Mi Merchant Guild's side room in Xu Province.