[…]

Lumina, Meiling, and Yui stood silently, staring at the materials scattered across the floor.

None of the three had ever crafted equipment with their own hands—not even once.

Most Hunter hopefuls weren’t any different.

Even the candidates from Martial God and Magica—both famed for their high-level training—as well as those from Crystal, the so-called world’s top Hunter academy, were frozen in place clutching their chosen materials.

Dai Academy was no better.

Right now, the only group actually moving in the workshop was Ucheon Academy.

Their four students worked with smooth confidence—heating magic iron, preparing solutions by melting auxiliary materials, bustling about like seasoned apprentices.

The others tried to learn by watching, but Ucheon’s level was so high that no one dared attempt to imitate them.

In this moment of crisis, Gwangcheon’s three students raised their heads together and looked to the boy standing before them.

They had absolute faith he could lead them through this.

Who was Yein? He was the one who, in just days, had cranked out dozens—no, hundreds—of Rare-grade items and forged the perfect gear tailored to their fighting styles and aptitudes. He was, in short, the finest blacksmith they knew.

So this class would be no problem.

That was what they believed—at least until Yein picked up a lump of magic iron and slid it into the furnace.

“Ah. Damn.”

He scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish.

He had overheated it. The magic iron had melted and fused to the mana-stone inside the furnace.

“Mm… What a waste. Maybe I should just try hammering it as is.”

With that, Yein lifted the half-melted mass—like a wad of gum rolled in dust—using tongs and carried it to the anvil.

He grabbed a small hammer and brought it down on the glowing metal.

Boom!

The sudden blast made everyone jump and whip their heads toward Gwangcheon’s station.

“Y-Yein!”

“Are you okay?”

Lumina and Yui rushed over. Yein had dropped both tongs and hammer and toppled backward.

“Cough.”

He hacked once, then glanced at the anvil. It had tipped over. The hammer’s handle had snapped.

And Substance X had turned to ash, scattered across the workshop floor.

“Ha!”

A peal of laughter rang out from nearby.

“Well, that’s rich.”

Iris stood with arms crossed, wearing a full, mocking smirk as she looked down at him.

“Eleanor must have her hands full, using a talentless hack like you as her assistant.”

Yein flicked a glance at Iris, then said nothing. He simply bent to pick up the fallen tongs.

“H-hey, what are you…?”

Meiling started to scold him, then caught herself and clamped her mouth shut. She stepped close, put her lips by his ear, and whispered very softly.

“Don’t tell me—you can’t craft at all without using your Ability?”

Yein kept his expression steady and nodded.

“Then what do we do for this class? You’re the only one who even halfway knows item crafting.”

“We do our best.”

He said it plainly, then took up a fresh piece of magic iron and walked back to the furnace.

[…]

Meiling, Lumina, and Yui said nothing—in truth, they couldn’t—and simply watched Yein slide the metal into the flames.

“…”

There was someone else watching in silence, lips pressed into a hard line.

Kim Hyeonseok, Seoul’s greatest weapon craftsman, had had his eye on Yein since a moment ago—and only on Yein.

When Yein carried that mana-stone-glued magic iron to the anvil, Hyeonseok had been shocked, though he didn’t show it.

And of course, the moment the hammer fell, there was an explosion.

At least the mana-stone had already discharged most of its power; otherwise, the blast would have been far worse.

What on earth? Wasn’t this kid supposed to be the “mystery craftsman”?

Hearing the ring of Yein’s hammer on newly heated iron, Hyeonseok let out a thin groan.

Sloppy. That’s the movement of someone who’s never crafted a thing in his life.

His grip on both hammer and tongs was awkward, his timing for pulling the metal from the furnace was wrong, and he pounded away without any sense of shaping. The sight made Hyeonseok want to spring from his chair and smack the back of the boy’s head.

So he really isn’t?

A bitter taste crept into his mouth.

Kim Hyeonseok, nicknamed the greatest weapon craftsman in Seoul, possessed an ironclad pride.

Weapons born from his fingertips were objects Hunters across Seoul—no, across the world—dreamed of owning even once in their lifetime.

The devastating power and stacked beneficial effects of his creations were a cut above other Rare weapons of the same level.

Many high-level Hunters—figures respected wherever they went—had bowed their heads to obtain his work, and Hyeonseok had come to see that as natural.

Then one day, a threat to his throne appeared.

This new figure could produce dozens, hundreds of weapons and pieces of equipment in a single week.

Ordinarily, that would require scores of craftsmen working in concert.

The greater shock was that the quality of those rapidly produced items matched pieces that Rare-grade artisans spent months painstakingly crafting.

When Hyeonseok first held one of the man’s weapons in his hands, he turned to stone, speechless for minutes.

The weapon’s level was around 35—only half of Hyeonseok’s 70-class masterpieces—but the completeness was indistinguishable from his own.

Worse, the levels of the items appearing on the market under that craftsman’s name kept rising—like a Hunter leveling up.

At this rate, the title “Seoul’s greatest weapon craftsman” would change hands.

Rumors swirled through every corner of the Hunter Market, and Hyeonseok seethed.

Who dared to trespass on his domain? He wanted to confirm it with his own eyes.

But it was impossible.

Absurdly, the craftsman hid his identity. There wasn’t a name or maker’s mark on any weapon or armor he produced.

Crowds pressed the doors of Wings of Platinum, his sole trading partner, demanding to know who he was, but the bearded manager and the young boss would only say they couldn’t divulge it.

Thus the nickname stuck: the “mystery craftsman.”

His fame grew even more when it became known he had crafted the item that resolved the Dungeon Shift crisis—the Wight of Phase Fixation.

Even Cheon Jiwon, the market’s own leader, didn’t know who he was.

That only made Hyeonseok more desperate to see the man with his own eyes—and to expose his face to every Hunter in Seoul.

In item crafting, a name carried weight. A craftsman who refused to reveal himself had to be hiding something—some blot in the past, or a thorny grudge.

If his identity were revealed, the mystery craftsman would be unable to put anything on the market and would be forced into hiding.

So Hyeonseok believed.

It didn’t take long to learn that this Nam Yein punk was closely tied to the mystery craftsman. And my gut told me—he’s the man himself.

Anyone else would have scoffed at the idea.

But Hyeonseok had reasons.

First, Nam Yein had been seen often on Workshop Street, going in and out of Wings of Platinum, where Eleanor served as the proprietor.

It wasn’t strange for a Hunter hopeful to show up on Workshop Street—Ucheon Academy students who aimed to become crafters came to observe or seek mentors.

But Yein? He went only to Eleanor’s workshop.

And the lack of any senior, full-fledged craftsman there was as widely known as Eleanor herself.

The second reason was this: countless people had witnessed Cheon Jiwon meeting Nam Yein at Wings of Platinum.

For someone like Cheon Jiwon to seek out a mere Hunter trainee was suspicious, to say the least.

The last piece of evidence came from the terrorist incident at Porter Department Store.

That day, the news said Gwangcheon’s Nam Yein and another student stood against the terrorists. But that’s impossible for an ordinary trainee. Their opponent was a retired Hunter over level 60.

The fact that he had acted in that situation meant he was confident in his ability to do so.

In other words, Nam Yein already possessed the level and skills of a professional Hunter.

From these points, Hyeonseok drew his conclusion:

Nam Yein was a professional Hunter disguising his age and level—and at the same time, the mystery craftsman.

To Hyeonseok, it was the only explanation.

While he was nursing those suspicions, HAUT reached out to invite him as an instructor.

Normally, he would have refused. But then he saw an online article listing Nam Yein as a participant, and his resolve wavered. Soon after, he accepted the HAUT committee’s request.

But he had a condition.

He would only do it if he could change the class content however he wished.

The academy agreed, and Hyeonseok laid his trap.

In any field where someone poured in years of experience, traces were bound to show.

For a craftsman, certain movements during item creation could never be hidden.

And as a fellow craftsman, Hyeonseok believed he would recognize them instantly.

And now…

Right before his eyes unfolded the clumsy flailing of a complete novice, one who had never crafted a thing in his life.

“Uuuugh…”

Yein sat down, trying to attach a grotesquely misshapen blade to a prefabricated part. He tilted his head like a confused child, unable to figure out how to connect anything.

Hyeonseok shut his uncovered eye tightly.

If he kept watching, he felt like the veins at his temples might burst.

I was barking up the wrong tree after all.

At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to quit as a HAUT instructor and retreat to his own workshop.

Two hours later.

When the class ended, Kim Hyeonseok walked out without a word, his face twisted as though he had chewed something foul.

“Phew.”

Suppressing laughter, I set down the ridiculous-looking chunk of metal I’d been clutching.

That should clear his suspicions.

I knew Hyeonseok’s type, and I had guessed why he’d come to HAUT.

He was trying to sniff out signs of the mystery craftsman in me.

But it was pointless.

No matter how hard he stared, all I could show him was the fumbling of a beginner.

Because in truth, I didn’t know the first thing about how to make an item.

The little I knew came from those times when Eleanor had asked me to keep her company in the workshop.

Even then, all I did was admire her work. I never once thought of imitating her.

Now that I knew this class was his trap, there was no need to bother trying to earn points here.

HAUT had more than enough other classes and assignments to rack them up.

[Attention, HAUT candidates in the workshop. Please move to the classroom used for yesterday’s theory lesson to prepare for the next class. This is a final announcement.]

Abel’s voice echoed through the speakers.

“Let’s go. Senior, you too.”

I looked at the three of my squad.

They must have realized they’d get no hints from me, because they’d resorted to sneaking peeks at Ucheon for reference.

The second class that afternoon turned out to be Material Studies—clearly tailored to follow the crafting session.

It seemed backwards to teach materials after the practical, but for me, it was essentially a specialty. I breezed through it, pocketing another ten points.

Later, during dinner, while others slogged through the meal-ticket race, we ate comfortably in the cafeteria.

Finally, free time arrived.

After Abel left for the day, Jang Jinseong came by the dormitory.

“Gwangcheon has already stacked up forty-six points,” he said as he looked us over.

“Once you reach forty points, you gain access to the campus store. It opens tonight on the first floor of the main building. If there’s anything you want, check it out.”

With that, he went into the central office.

“Did he say store?”

Meiling’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Ice cream! I want ice cream! Let’s go!”

“H-hey, wait….”

Lumina let herself be dragged off by Meiling, casting a helpless glance back at me and Seo Yui.

We shared a small smile and followed after them to the main building.

“Wow.”

“Wha—look at this place.”

The moment Lumina and Meiling stepped inside, they let out cries of amazement.

The store was packed with instant food, snacks, cosmetics, underwear, equipment care kits—everything a student at HAUT might crave.

There were even tables and a microwave, creating an oddly familiar atmosphere. I shook my head quickly, chasing away memories.

The goods were all stocked in vending machines. A self-service shop.

“There’s so much to eat here. Even if you lose the meal-ticket race, you could still eat by coming here.”

At Lumina’s words, I gave a wry smile.

“But you need forty points to get in. Which means, in the end, you’re already exempt from the race.”

“Ah, r-right. Hehe.”

Lumina laughed awkwardly.

“Lumina! Ice cream! I’m buying! Hurry and pick!”

Meiling’s voice rang out, thrilled by the sight of sweets.

As Lumina hurried over, I motioned to Seo Yui.

“Senior, let me whisper something.”

“Hm?”

She leaned in, puzzled.

When I whispered softly, she gave me a bright smile in return.

“Yes. That’s a good idea.”

I knew she’d respond that way.

Together, we began choosing our items.

(End of Chapter)

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.