Blacksmith vs. the System

When I arrived on the first floor, I was met with a surprise. Not an unpleasant one. Far from it.

I could see fifty people, a combination of farmers and blacksmiths, led by Terry, working around a new workshop, with endless wooden shelves near them, filled with both bows and crossbows and at least a dozen ballistas.

"Someone has been busy in my absence," I said. Every worker flinched in surprise.

"Sir," several gasps rose, shocked by my presence. Not that I blamed them, the sudden visit from one's boss was never pleasant, especially since that boss had the power over their life and death. I could feel most of them radiating fear, while Terry and a few others radiated excitement —

That brought me to a stop. "Something wrong, sir?" Terry asked.

"No, just examining the weapons," I said as I walked toward him. "They look good," I added while I touched the first crossbow. My words were just to distract them from my awkward pause, but ultimately, it wasn't a lie. The crossbows looked impressive enough. The metal parts were easy to understand, but the same wasn't true for the wood or the string. "Explain to me how you did it."

"With pleasure, sir," he said. "I'm sure you have no need for an explanation when it comes to metal parts," he said. I nodded. I detected their structure already, and they were merely a copy of the other crossbows we were able to purchase. "The real challenge was to create a type of wood that maintained the necessary strength and endurance while also not burning up when the lizards with fire aura drifted closer," he explained.

I nodded, acting like I was aware of the lizard variant he had mentioned.

I was not, but it was reasonable progress, and asking follow-up questions would mean revealing unnecessary secrets.

Instead, I listened to him talk about how they created an assembly line to optimize production, busying myself with a sudden new understanding when it came to the emotions of others, which was clearly another benefit of Wisdom.

Which, admittedly, had been a little problem I had. It wasn't that I couldn't understand people, but it was one I had cultivated through working in a hostile work environment for a decade, where I had learned to pick up micro-expressions carefully rather than the kind of instinctual understanding people had. I had gotten pretty good at it, but that was nothing compared to the instinctual understanding Wisdom started to provide.

It was an interesting experience, but ultimately, it didn't matter too much under the current circumstances, particularly since my position in the dungeon meant that everyone's feelings toward me were quite intense. People who disliked me did it intensely, while the ones who were in favor of me were almost fanatical in their expression of their fascination.

However, I had a feeling it would get useful when we had to deal with the inevitable spies … I just hoped that we could survive enough that spies became a problem once more.

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"Impressive," I said once he finished his explanation. Wisdom proved useful once more, helping me to not miss anything he had spoken despite letting myself get distracted. It wasn't as impressive as the multitasking from Intelligence, but a stronger memory allowed me to repeat the same thing. "But, you need to be more careful about the production line," I said after pointing at several mistakes. Some of them were one-offs, some persistent. "Maybe think of implementing quality checks for individual pieces before the assembly."

"A good idea, sir," he said. "Maybe that can help us with the ballistas as well. We're having trouble getting them right."

I recognized the implied request for help. "Work on it another day, and if you still can't figure it out, I'll have a look," I promised before walking away, which had two objectives. One was for the tasks to fit into my rather tight schedule. Helping the dungeon recover its mana was critical, and so was exploring the advantages — and possible blind spots — of Wisdom before I faced a dangerous situation.

More importantly, I was already impressed with the initiative they were showing in creating the crossbows and the ballistas. Admittedly, I much rather see some kind of steam-powered bolt launcher than an inferior ballista, but every bit of initiative was welcome.

Once outside, I met with an improved encampment, with Harold leading the construction of an outer line. "It looks good," I called.

"Sir," Harold said, his attitude stern, but with Wisdom, I could also feel his sudden relief at my appearance, which contrasted greatly with the disdain and the disappointment of the other guards.

"Come here and give me a report," I called loudly, and he approached. I led him back into the dungeon, away from the others before we started speaking. "First question, how long have I been gone for," I asked.

"You were away for one night, sir," he answered professionally. He did look somewhat surprised, but not too much. After all, there were too many credible reasons to suddenly lose a day when magic was concerned.

"Good. Is anything worthwhile to report? Start from the good news."

"The best news is that we managed to handle the night with no losses, and we have another thousand farmers ready to upgrade their classes," he said. "The new ranged weapons, in particular, are coming in quite handy."

"That's good news indeed," I said. "How about the lizard claws, do we have enough to help them level up?"

"The last time I checked, the number was just below two hundred thousand, sir," he said.

"That much, yet no losses. Very impressive," I said, but my compliment didn't change his attitude. "And, the bad news."

"The guards, sir. They are getting … restless. Lady Eleanor's orders are enough to keep them obedient for now, but not forever, especially as they level up," he said. "They are getting more confident, and with that…"

"They believe that they should lead the camp rather than an upstart blacksmith," I added. He looked ready to argue, but I waved it off. "Don't worry about it. I'm not bothered," I said. "But, we might need to look toward improving your capabilities faster," I said. "As long as you're strong enough, they should be dissuaded."

"It's probably not a good idea, sir," he said, which was impressive because I could feel his excitement toward the idea. "I'm doing my best to hide the full length of my improvements, but sooner or later, I'll slip, and they'll get suspicious."

I paused. He was right, and while after my class upgrade, I was considerably more confident in holding the dungeon under control, it didn't mean that inviting trouble was the smart thing to do. "Alright. Pick an external skill, and we'll make sure to improve it further," I said, making a note to do the same as well.

With my Stats upgraded, I could equip Epic skills at a minimum, and maybe even Legendary ones might be possible — assuming the current dungeon created them in the first place.

"That makes sense, sir. That way, I can keep it concealed easily," he admitted.

"Good. Now, go and arrange farmers for me to level up. Ten at a time," I said, then went out once more.

None of the other guards approached me, their fear and disdain keeping them back, not that I blamed them.

Not with my suspicions about how the System affected our mentality.

I started operating the crusher before Harold came with the first farmers, not wanting to lose any time. The pipe leading to the gate pumped the mana directly toward the dungeon gate, letting the dungeon refresh its mana.

I sighed. With my connection with the dungeon, it felt similar to finding water after getting lost in a desert for a week. Too bad I needed to drink a lot of water. With what my class change had consumed, it would take at least a week to replenish the reserves —

Or not, I corrected the moment I ran my Meditation skill, expecting the tainted energy from the claws to stick at the cloud of decay for a second before it disappeared, only for it to happen instantaneously.

My eyes widened as I let larger and larger amounts of tainted energy, only for them to disappear instantly. Then, I slapped my head, realizing I had missed something completely obvious.

That my meditation technique was a conceptual one, empowered by Wisdom. Significantly so, if the performance was any indicator. I was expecting to spend at least one second per claw, which would mean that, even if I dedicated a full half of my day to it without a pause — the most I could reasonably do with everything else I needed to address — it would have meant I could process forty thousand a day at most, likely less considering all the miscellaneous steps slowing me down.

But, empowered by Wisdom, the Meditation technique operated with a speed that was worthy of its rank, devouring the tainted energy instantly while I increased the rate. I continued to crash the claws. Some of it I used to help the farmers to advance their class, but the most, I just crushed to support the dungeon, which had worked wonders to not only replenish the reserves out of the dangerous point it was in, but also give me enough mana to experiment.

I saved only about ten thousand claws, which I planned to bring with me to the fourth floor for experimentation.

I returned to the dungeon an hour later, for once glad for my unwanted leadership position. While many details were a big chore, one thing was certainly valuable.

I didn't need to argue for days for grants and resources.