Blacksmith vs. the System

I liked having a nice glass of white wine while making monumental decisions, preferably a French Riesling of a decent vintage.

Unfortunately, it was not a luxury I was able to afford any more. Pre-cataclysm goods had long turned into an incredible luxury, even the cheapest box of wine would probably go for a gold coin during an auction. I didn't think I could survive even seeing the price tag of my favorite vintage for such occasions.

Not when I couldn't afford even the local moonshine. With only forty copper in my pocket, I would be skipping dinner for the next week and instead eat more during lunch — the greatest, and only perk my current job offered.

I took the long road back home, enjoying the bustle of the streets. It was a rare treat, as I was usually working during the day. And, it was rare to see people on the streets during the night. While it had been almost three weeks since a curfew had been declared, people were still reticent walking around during the night, afraid of another breach.

Not exactly an unjustified fear. The monsters were far more active during the night, and while the town had both walls and multiple patrols, they weren't exactly a guarantee of safety. If they were, the last emergency curfew wouldn't have been just weeks away.

I let my finger dance at the handle of my hammer even as I examined the buildings that were a mixture of wood and stone, with no signs of pre-Cataclysm architecture. They had been long destroyed during the first months of the disaster, the rebar steel in the walls far more valuable than anything else.

Though, they weren't the only things that had been destroyed. Anything that contained metal had been long ruined, usually cast into bars, forged into weapons that had been demolished just as quickly as they were made.

That trend finally stopped after the discovery of the first System store, allowing for the exchange of goods and materials. It wasn't cheap, but an enchanted sword in the hands of a high-level warrior was far more valuable than a thousand held by others.

The discovery of the System store was the first real hit for the production classes. Before, we were a critical part of the defense. Not just Blacksmiths, but Farmers, Carpenters, and many others. After the System store had been discovered just fifty miles away, that changed. We had been first reduced to repairing, and even that was at risk.

"Such fascinating developments," I muttered. Despite all the problems it had created for me, I was still captivated by the situation. After all, I was still one of the premier sociologists in the world. It was my passion to understand how human behavior shapes and is shaped by various social aspects.

The irony was that, even as humanity was going through its single greatest change, I neither had the time nor the data to understand what was going on. And, no one cared about it, because my class didn't have Intelligence as a stat.

When I arrived at my home — a tiny room that was more similar to a prison cell than a residence — I found a paper hanging on my door.

A notice, declaring that, by next week, my rent would be increased from three silvers a week to five silvers. A very steep increase. "That might as well happen," I growled even as I ripped it off. The room was already near the wall, and absent of anything that could be framed as luxury other than being a single-person residence — including a window.

But, I couldn't live in a shared room. Not because I would hate it, but because I needed the space. I opened the door, carefully shuffling through piles of paper that covered every inch of the room, each half as tall as me.

The reason I had to live alone. My library.

Everything I was able to find as I went from home to home while people destroyed every inch of the old buildings. I didn't know if anyone else bothered to save old books, but even if they did, they were probably hoarding them as much as I did.

While the pre-Cataclysm wine went for exaggerated prices, the same wasn't true for the old books — or any other classical art form, but those I didn't care about as intensely — which had been mostly treated as a nuisance.

Instead, people cared about the new books, ones that had been either acquired through dungeons or purchased through the System store, describing the secrets of the magic, skills, and perks, some magical enough to directly improve the skill proficiency of anyone that was lucky to read it.

Compared to those, some old college textbooks weren't particularly valuable.

Getting a shared room would mean that I had to get rid of them all.

"God, I need a drink," I growled as I threw myself on the bed, burying my face into the pillow. I had too many decisions to make. The first one was whether to continue applying to the newly established research centers, hoping that someone would allow me to work there. I was willing to work for free as long as I could get a closet to sleep in. I was even willing to bribe someone — unfortunately, I lacked the money to do so.

Focusing on acquiring the Perk Reset stone was another option. If I worked hard enough and sold all my assets — including my hammer, I thought even as my fingers brushed against the handle — I might be able to afford it before my skill got improved. Even then, it was a close call. The latest price increase had truly surprised me.

Then, of course, there was my nascent library. The increase in rent meant that just to maintain my room was enough to cut my weekly savings by almost half.

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the sudden, suffocating weight. Desperate, I reached my mind, calling the System, seeing eight lines of text that were more important than anything else I had done in the past, and would do in the future.

[Blacksmith - Level 7]

[Health 210/210]

[Vitality 14 / Strength 14 / Dexterity 7]

[Skills (3/5)

Repair (Common) - 24 [Analyze]

Forge (Common) - 8

Overhead Strike (Basic) - 4 ]

"Depressing," I muttered even as I dismissed the screen. None of the information there was a mystery, or even changed recently. With the sole exception of [Repair], the last time one of my skills had increased was a year ago, when I was forced to fight against a runaway monster, and it was even longer before I actually leveled up.

I neglected leveling up for two reasons. For one, it wasn't really valuable when it came to repair work. Most of the time, repairing a weapon only required a fraction of my Strength, and increasing it more wasn't exactly a priority.

Of course, if it was just the relative uselessness, I would have still worked to level up. Extra power and health were not something I would turn up my nose in such a dangerous world. But, there were two problems with it.

The first problem was simple. The stronger someone, the higher the cost of living. The higher levels required more energy, which meant more food consumption, preferably higher quality with more energy density. That alone was problematic enough.

Then, there was the fact that it was expensive for a Blacksmith to level up. The easiest spots to level up had long been monopolized by the stronger groups, both the dungeons and the wilderness.

Anyone that wanted to level up either had to pay for the access, or brave the wilderness as a part of a party. Considering my financial situation was my biggest problem, the first was not an option. It was at one point, but I had prioritized my research over it, which now lay in a corner of my library, gathering dust.

The second wasn't exactly any better. There were only two groups that would accept a low-level Blacksmith, the absolute amateurs that would most likely die in the wilderness…

And, exploration teams.

These were experts who pushed into the wilderness, searching for mines, new hunting spots, and even occasionally connecting with other towns. They had been critical in reestablishing the connection with the rest of the state after the Cataclysm, where even the geography had been reshaped, constantly penetrating through the wilderness.

Unfortunately, while they had achieved a lot, their death rate wasn't too much lower than the amateur parties. They might be well-equipped professionals, but the dangers they faced were much higher. In the world after the Cataclysm, the unknown meant danger.

But, also, potential riches. A good discovery would mean an incredible payday, one where even the meager share that would be given to me as a Blacksmith would be measured in gold rather than silver. If I had enough gold, I could not only purchase everything I needed, but also afford to move to one of the new cities with the research organizations, getting one step closer to success.

I always avoided that, hoping to find myself a place that fit my skills rather than my [Skills], but maybe it was a mistake.

Maybe I had been too arrogant.

With a deep sigh, I stood up. It was time to make a change.

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