Caster was having trouble connecting a boot to a glove with his magic. He could only get the spell to work a few centimeters before it became unstable. But he discovered that this technique allowed him to put spells on softer materials like cloth.As he read through the book, Caster felt a surge of excitement. The system prompt appeared: **Ethereal Pathway Skill L 1 has been learned. Intelligence +1**. He grinned, pleased with the boost to his mental abilities. The hours of studying had paid off, and now he had what he needed to create magical weapons and armor. However, he still struggled with crafting anything beyond the spells."I need to think creatively," he said, tapping the quill against his chin. An idea struck him—why not get a steel sword from an armorsmith or weaponsmith and then add his spells? He could sell the enhanced weapon for a good profit."But what if the weaponsmith finds out?" Caster wondered aloud. He knew that craftsmen could identify their own work, just like
Felix stood in front of Caster, his mouth moving a mile a minute as he inspected the inside of the workshop. He glanced around, eyes wide with curiosity, before bombarding Caster with a series of rapid-fire questions. “I see you’ve found a place you’ve been hiding in. I picked up this quest as a side job, and imagine my surprise to find you here! You’re a Magesmith now? When did that happen?”Caster responded calmly, “Well, no… I switched recently.”Felix looked at him incredulously. “But you were so strong back there! Aren’t you wasting away in this dump? You should be out fighting monsters, not tinkering with tools!”Thanks to the number of Gorgonites they’d slain, Felix had leveled up to a second-tier class. He’d chosen the hunter class, which improved his tracking and bow skills. It was also a class that enhanced his short sword techniques, setting him on a path to eventually become a ranger at tier two.Caster raised an eyebrow and countered, “Didn’t you have enough of fighting m
Caster examined the piece of lesser sharp iron in his possession, thinking it would go well with the knife he was making—if only he could shrink it enough to fit the small blade."This should work... if I can get the size just right," he mumbled to himself.Determined to create something useful out of what others might see as junk, Caster grabbed a rusty horse hoof rasp. It was a tool used to file down hooves, and though it was old and half-rusted, the eight inches near the handle would work perfectly. "Steel, not iron," he noted with satisfaction, pleased to be working with something stronger this time.He carefully heated the metal in the forge until it turned a deep red. Once it was ready, he began hammering the handle end of the rasp on the near side of his anvil."Flatten it... about half an inch should do," he muttered, focusing on each strike of the hammer.Using the handle end of the file saved him a lot of time."Don't forget to smooth out the sharp edges," Caster reminded h
After that, Caster went back to his workshop and continued making improvements on the utility knife. While it was not a weapon, the blade was short and ideal for practicing different techniques as a Magesmith and carving inscriptions. He also had a grinding wheel in his workshop which he could manage using his foot. Then he honed the tool before giving it a bright sheen.“Well done,” Caster added softly, gazing at his handiwork proudly. Crude Steel Utility Knife: [intermediate].Achieving an intermediate rank was a minor but fulfilling accomplishment for him. The more he worked, the less of a strain it became, and he felt his Magesmithing getting better in a way he could not describe. His hands were well-trained, almost as if they functioned independently; carving tools for hours in the day.Caster was lost in his thoughts when the door of the workshop suddenly swung open. His assistant, Felix, entered the room with ten wooden pieces that resembled arrow shafts and quills. With a broa
Caster wasn’t there for the usual items; instead, he headed straight to the display of enchanted weapons. These were the ones with lesser magical enhancements, stored safely behind glass cases. To purchase or inspect one closely, you needed to call a clerk over. However, Caster had a different plan—he just wanted to study them through the glass.As he approached one of the cases, he noticed the steel weapons inside, each crafted better than anything he could produce at the moment."Steel Axe of lesser sharpness… Steel Dagger of lesser sharpness," Caster mumbled to himself as he scanned the display. He browsed through the weapons, noting that most had the popular sharpness enchantment. But then, he spotted something more intriguing."Steel longsword of lesser scorching... there it is," Caster murmured again, a hint of excitement in his voice. This was a new enchantment he hadn’t seen before. From his knowledge, he knew this spell would imbue the weapon with flames that wouldn’t harm t
Immediately he had it all well melted, Caster took out the melting crucible with the heated metal and began pouring it into the small opening of the mold. Smoke started rising, but fortunately, he didn’t see anything spilling outside. The top of the wooden mold began to catch fire after it was filled up, but that wasn’t a problem.“The mold’s on fire, but it’s contained,” Caster said, checking the mold closely. “Nothing to worry about.”Once the casting process was over and the mold had cooled off, Caster got to work removing the latches and nails. When the mold was finally opened, he saw a very rough-looking piece of bronze covered in sand. He carefully cleaned off the sand, preparing himself for the grinding process that would probably take over a day to finish.“This is going to be a long job,” Caster muttered as he picked up his grinding stone and sandpaper. “But it has to be done.”The next day, after finishing the polishing, it was time to attach a wooden handle. He used a base
Caster was in a tight spot. He was looking at a small, half-demon boy shaking his body side to side, his large eyes wide with curiosity. The boy had climbed through an open window and seen Caster working on magecrafting.“Hey... how did you do that?” the boy asked, eyes wide. “That’s an enchanted sword for sure! You can enchant swords? Are you a Magesmith? I knew it, you must be tier 2 for that!”The boy had jumped to the conclusion that Caster was an advanced Magesmith. He couldn’t tell the difference between enchanting and magecrafting, but that wasn’t the main issue—Caster’s secret, which he wanted to keep hidden, was now exposed.“I’m not old, you know,” Caster said, frustration seeping into his voice. “And this isn’t just any enchanted sword…”To be honest, Caster was tired of hiding in this town. He had to wear a black robe and avoid people, fearing that assassins or someone connected to his noble house might recognize him. If they reported him to his father, he’d probably be dr
Caster was in a tight spot. He was watching a small, half-demon boy shaking his body side to side, his large eyes wide with curiosity. The boy had climbed through an open window and seen Caster working on magecrafting.“Hey… how did you do that?” the boy asked, eyes wide. “That’s definitely an enchanted sword! You can enchant swords? Are you a Magesmith? I bet you’re tier 2!”The boy had jumped to the conclusion that Caster was an advanced Magesmith. He couldn’t tell the difference between enchanting and magecrafting, but that wasn’t the main issue—Caster’s secret, which he wanted to keep hidden, was now exposed.“I’m not old, you know,” Caster said, frustration seeping into his voice. “And this isn’t just any enchanted sword…”Caster was tired of hiding in this town. He had to wear a black robe and avoid people, fearing that assassins or someone connected to his noble house might recognize him. If they reported him to his father, he’d probably be dragged back home.Even though he had
Caster was mature enough to see the world as it was. He understood that most younger folk saw it through a lens of hope and ambition, their dreams of treasure and fame setting them apart from his more grounded approach. Some were from humble beginnings: sons and daughters of farmers; young people from families that were better off but that had fallen on hard times and now were boy or girl determined to claw back some of that perceived lost respect, no matter the price."My jaw twisted into a small smirk as I imagined their wide eyes and wide, baseless plans and all they think is, ‘Get some gold, a shiny sword, you’ll be a hero.’" It was the same story, time and again: things that were often only dreams, rarely aligning with reality.Lowfield had been a deliberate choice despite what she had become. Knowing full well it wouldn’t be clear, he took the fast route but he took the fast route. The road taught him about its steep hills, its rocky passages and on occasion, the unfriendly tra
The early morning breeze bit into the cloak and the underdress at Caster’s shoulders as he walked the narrow cobblestone path into Lowfield. Today he had gotten rid of his imposing helmet and heavy armor. Dawn's fresh smell of its own earth together mingling with the familiar taste of his workshop on his clothes. He wasn’t hiding his identity, or painful silence had been left behind, today. Today was about remembering the life that kept breathing after his magesmith-tools stopped.The caravan had added liveliness to the town which reminded me of festival time, the town was waking up. Some of the faces settling onboard Caster recognised—newcomers amongst the adventurers. With fresh ambitions and none of the resolve yet tested, they walked on their own journey wide eyed and reminded him of the person he used to be. He watched the newcomers with a kind of quiet amusement, catching snippets of eager chatter about dungeons and imagined battles, bravado thick in the air.A young man, prob
Casting his small treaty of provisions, a load of stale bread crusts, some wrinkled fruits, and a hard wedge of cheese that once lived on a more hospitable broke surviving clunk to clunk. He made a gagging noise as he peered at the dried meat again and poked it with distaste. "Wouldn't it kill the fates to give me a real meal?" Just once. Something hot, even." He sneaked a look over at where a stove should be, the ones that made his mouth water when a hearty stew bubbled away. For a moment he smirked, "No stove yet … maybe I could conjure a magical pan up." "Oil might be asking for a miracle."Peering out the window he squinted at the city in the early light. Carts creaked along cobbled paths and vendors hawked fresh fish and newly baked bread in the place I had walked into, even now. He’d done a lot with the house in the week that he’d been there, turning it into something livable, barely. "What the hell?' he murmured, 'Doors actually close now' he concluded feeling a bit more proud
Caster adjusted his grip and took a close look at his work, scrutinizing every line and angle of the newly crafted weapon handle. The wood was tough but carefully sanded, bearing faint, meticulous patterns he had engraved over hours of work. "Alright," he muttered, almost to himself. "Let's see if this holds up."He lowered his gaze to the small, rough-edged mana stone beside him. Its surface shimmered faintly, a testament to the raw energy that pulsed within it. With precision, he made a tiny opening at the base of the handle, using one of his tools to keep the gap just wide enough for the stone to fit snugly. Holding his breath, Caster slid the stone into place, his hand steady even as he felt the twinge of nervousness in his gut. One wrong move, one crack, and the handle would split, and the entire effort would be wasted. He exhaled, the pressure off his shoulders as the stone was secure. He picked up a little hammer and taps the opening closed, sealing the stone.Caster was co
Caster’s gaze shifted between his rough tools and the iron-cast walls around him. The dim, flickering light from a lone torch cast dancing shadows on his workbench, where the worn mace lay, waiting. Each scuff and nick in the wood handle held a tale of its own; it wasn’t just a tool but a companion, a weapon that had been through as much as he had. And here he was, weighing its life and usefulness like a weary healer judging the last pulse of an old patient.He ran his hand over the handle one last time, tracing the grains and grooves with a practiced eye. “Adding a stone’s one thing,” he muttered. “But what it needs is stability.” His fingers slid to a small crack, an old fracture that hadn’t yet spread but threatened to. “If that widens… this thing’s done.”His hands worked without thought, reaching into the assortment of stones, metals, and powders he had scavenged over time. His fingers found a small, rough mana stone, and he rolled it between his fingers, feeling its faint warm
Caster knocked metal hard on metal, the sound reverberating in the almost pitch black workshop. With every hook an aura of magical energy was discharged providing brief glimpses of light on the roughly completed stone walls. It smelled of hot metal and a low, tense buzz, which seemed to say that the room itself had tensed to watch him.Caster, still young but hardened by the trials of his craft, stood poised over his latest project: a shield, its shape still raw but which is already starting to look graceful. Though not tall and still somewhat thin, he seemed to possess good illating strength, every punch he landed being calculated. Each movement was accompanied by complex magical ripples, which Indragni had seen on the surface of the shield before a layer of runes he more or less sketched with great detail. In addition to a frown a look of intense concentration took over his face only to be interrupted the occasional lean back to examine the painting.After several more strikes, he
Caster climbed the winding stone stairs leading upward from the basement of Lamba fortress as the red rays of the morning sun spread across Lowfield. He sighed as he breathed in the crisp morning air and hours spent wading through dim and damp caverns had taken a toll on him. The bustle outside was a stark contrast to the quiet gloom below. Merchants, hawkers, and small-time dealers filled the open area, all eager to cater to the steady stream of adventurers drawn to the dungeon.“Potion for mana, sir?” called a nearby merchant, brandishing a small flask that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Clearly, the man wasn’t going to miss any opportunity to sell.He gave her the distinct pleasure of a faint smile and a polite shake of his head. “Not today, but thanks.” The merchant glanced up as he passed saying “As he passed his gaze fell on a young boy standing beside the merchant with his hands outstretched each palm held small stones of different colors.”“Lucky charms,” the boy put out
Caster climbed the winding stairs stone leading upward from the basement of Lamba fortress as the red rays of the morning sun spread across Lowfield. He sighed as he breathed in the crisp morning air and hours spent wading through dim and damp caverns has taken a toll on him. The bustle outside was a stark contrast to the quiet gloom below. Merchants, hawkers, and small-time dealers filled the open area, all eager to cater to the steady stream of adventurers drawn to the dungeon.“Potion for mana, sir?” called a nearby merchant, brandishing a small flask that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Clearly, the man wasn’t going to miss any opportunity to sell.He gave her the distinct pleasure of a faint smile and a polite shake of his head. “Not today, but thanks.” The merchant glanced up as he passed saying “As he passed his gaze fell on a young boy standing beside the merchant with his hands outstretched each palm held small stones of different colors.”“Lucky charms,” the boy put out
Caster met them along the way quite often, which slowed down his progress. As he fought, he had to wait for them to finish before he could move on. “Hey, Caster! Need a hand?” one adventurer called out, swinging a sword at a monster.“No thanks! I’m good,” Caster replied, keeping his eyes on the battle ahead. He knew he could be accused of stealing if he forced his way through. Caster wished to avoid conflict with others, at least for now. He didn’t want to risk incurring their wrath or losing potential allies. “Once I get a silver-grade card, things will be different,” he thought. With higher levels, prestige wouldn’t be far behind, and the dynamics of encounters would shift dramatically.The level wasn’t that large; if someone knew the way, they could stroll past most dangers and quickly descend to the second level. Caster recalled hearing about hidden paths that only seasoned adventurers were aware of. These shortcuts could be the difference between life and death, especially dee