Elsa: "You're always welcome back, my child."

Old butler: "May your martial fortunes flourish, Young Master William."

Sophina: "Waaah, you must visit me often, brother."

Early the next morning, I left the Yinwen household with Nina. Staying longer might trap me—humans can't resist temptation.

Beautiful women and fine wine are heroes' graves. I'm no hero, just a pleasure-seeking mortal.

Soon, I took Nina to a blacksmith shop. It sold weapons and armor, and bought back gear too.

Stepping inside, leather and iron smells hit me. The shop looked like a mini supermarket, weapons hanging everywhere.

At the far counter sat a freckled girl, about seven or eight, with twin ponytails and big blue eyes. She was adorable.

Seeing us, she jumped up instantly.

"W-welcome to Spark Forge. I'm Sally. What would you like to buy, guest?"

She seemed nervous, stammering and avoiding my gaze. Up close, she trembled slightly.

Could this girl really be the owner? Absurd.

"Little sister Sally, I want to sell equipment. Are you the boss?"

"N-no, of course not. My dad owns it. Wait here; I'll fetch him."

She hopped off her chair and dashed through a back door. Moments later, she returned with a dark-skinned man.

He had stubble, a rugged face, and a muscular build. A towel hung on his neck; sweat soaked his tank top and blue pants.

"Hello, I'm Riley Johnson, the owner. Heard you're selling gear?"

His voice was deep and magnetic. He didn't seem ordinary. I appraised him—and froze.

Riley Johnson

Occupation: Blacksmith, Great Swordsman

LV: 243

HP: 3221

MP: 960

STR: 1544

STA: 4000

DEF: 3822

RES: 110

Skills: [Advanced Forging] [Intermediate Equipment Appraisal] [Greatsword Mastery] [Triple Slash] [Unyielding Will] [Battle Aura Focus] [High Load]

Holy crap. With stats like this, why be a blacksmith? I studied him closer—his left leg was prosthetic. No wonder his walk seemed off.

Riley frowned as I stared at it.

"What's wrong, kid? Never seen a disabled person?"

"Seen plenty, but none as strong as you, uncle."

"...You kid?"

He gaped, shocked I'd sensed his power.

"I've got gear to sell. Quite a lot. What do you think?"

"Alright, follow me."

He led us through the back door to a yard.

"This spot works. Show me what you're selling."

"Okay."

I waved my hand. Bandit gear clattered from storage, piling into a small mountain. I'd hidden the leader's three magic items among them, pretending ignorance.

"You raided a bandit den? And you use spatial magic?"

Riley eyed me, then swiftly sorted everything. He separated the three magic items from the rest.

After appraisal, he glared.

"Seventy-two ordinary pieces, three magic ones. Total: 375 gold. You mixed the magic gear to test me, didn't you? Sly for your age."

"Oh dear, caught red-handed. My apologies. I'll take your price as compensation."

I smiled. This uncle was honest and sharp—he'd seen right through me.

"Also, let me introduce myself. I'm Coburn William, an adventurer. This is a magic communication card. If trouble comes, uncle, use it to reach me."

"Not needed. Take your gold and go."

Riley examined the card suspiciously, then shooed us out. But I saw him tuck it away.