Chronicles Of The Crafting Hero

The cold night wind whooshed past, fluttering against Tyler's hair and his shadow armor as his crimson eyes remained fixed on the system panel. He was slightly surprised by the rewards displayed. The White Walker armor recipe caught his eye, its description stark against the digital display. A smile played on his lips. *The White Walker recipe...* He chuckled, muttering, "And I already have all the ingredients."

He then considered the Potion Recipe. "Powerful Potion..." he thought. "I wonder what kind it is. I need potions where I'm going. I just equipped the Shadow Armor. I'm not completely prepared."

He glanced at the Lifeweaver recipe and then considered the accessory, Tempest Bracers. He saw the ingredients for the potion. Tyler put his finger on his chin, thinking deeply. "All these ingredients... for this potion," he muttered. "I'm only missing one: holy water."

He paused, then the ingredients for the weapon caught his eye. His eyes widened slightly as he read, "Crimson Iron..." Wait... "Is it talking about the iron I made using the Room skill?" he muttered. "But that's not... that's not a real metal. I just copied the metal on the dagger using the Room skill. People started calling it 'Crimson Iron', now so is the system?"

A spark of an idea ignited in his mind. Tyler thought to himself, "The iron I made isn't purely iron. It has some zinc... and the bone of a Crimson Alpha in it."

"This means the metal *already has* all the other ingredients for the Terror Dagger..." He thought, a realization dawning. "As far as I know, I can't make another Terror Dagger because I need another Crimson Alpha Jaw, and they said those monsters spawn only the next month on the same day you killed them. But with the room skill, I believe I can make more if my theory is correct. I can make an infinite number of Terror Daggers... and enhance them!"

The system panel disappeared, and then the panel for the inventory appeared before Tyler. He started scrolling through the panel, his eyes widening in surprise. He saw many ingredients he hadn't noticed before. "How did I miss this?" His crimson eyes were shining, bright with a newfound excitement. He felt like a child offered candy. "So many ingredients... Was I simply just ignoring them, just looking at the icons and searching for a specific one? So far I've been neglecting so many recipes that the system has given me." He facepalmed himself, groaning. "I was busy being a hunter instead of a craftsman. There's so many things I can craft!"

Tyler began walking forward, the system panel still in front of him, following his movements. "But I don't have enough time. I have to go help... Rebecca." He sighed, "The best I can do now is craft as many potions as I possibly can." He then said to the system, "Craft... healing potions."

"Use all resources," Tyler muttered, his voice a low rumble against the whisper of the wind. "Craft as many healing potions as you possibly can."

Then, a surge of power surged through him, and he exploded forward. A blur of motion. A streak of crimson shadow against the twilight. The short, green grass blurred beneath his feet, quickly yielding to a desolate expanse of cracked earth and scattered, dry blades. Each stride was a thunderclap, each footfall sending a plume of dust swirling into the air, a miniature dust devil trailing in his wake.

The system panel, a relentless digital companion, flashed repeatedly before him: "Crafting Successful. Crafting Successful. Crafting Successful." He ignored it, his focus laser-locked on his destination.

To his right, a forest loomed, a wall of ancient, colossal trees. Their massive trunks, thick as castle walls, disappeared into a canopy so dense it seemed to swallow the remaining light of day. But ahead, a promise of warmth, of life. Light. The town of Aria.

He saw it then, a constellation of scattered fires and flickering lamps, the smoke from hearths and forges painting the night with a delicate grey. The formidable walls of Aria rose before him, stone sentinels stretching to the horizon, their massive, cage-like gates standing as a testament to their defenses. He was close. So close.

He blinked, and for a fleeting moment, his perception sharpened. The darkness receded, the world becoming crisper, more defined. He could see every detail, every shadow. "Is this," he wondered, the thought barely forming in his mind, "one of the effects of the Shadow Armor?" But the question was quickly swept away by the driving urgency, as he continued his relentless pursuit.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Outside the towering steel gates of Aria, two knights stood guard. Both were clad in gleaming iron armor, their helmets concealing their faces, and they gripped long spears in their hands. They seemed to be engaged in a conversation, their voices hushed against the night wind. One, of a slightly portly build, shifted his weight from foot to foot. The other, a lean figure, his frame more wiry, spoke with a hint of exasperation.

"I mean, look at you," the thin man said, his voice a low murmur. "You're already tired, and it's only been an hour into your shift. I told you to ease up on the booze. What happens if we actually get attacked?"

The fat man chuckled, a rumble in his chest. "Get attacked? What the hell are you talking about? We haven't been attacked in a hundred years. Why now?"

The thin man shook his head, his expression serious. "You never know. Plus, if the... captain sees you slacking off, you're gonna be in real trouble."

The fat man scoffed, a dismissive sound. "Slacking off? You're such a worrier. Our captain is always drunk. Yeah, right. I saw him at the bar before I even came here."

The thin man's eyes widened. "What, really?" He let out a laugh. "You know what's funny? The guy drinks and then goes to his post, but he doesn't want *us* to."

The fat man sighed, a theatrical gesture. "Yeah," he said, before burping. "Talk about a hypocrite."

Suddenly, the fat man's eyes widened. A cloud of dust, swirling in the distance, caught his attention. "Look over there," he said, pointing.

The thin man followed his gaze. "What the hell is that?"

The fat man squinted, trying to make out the shape. "It... it looks like a human."

The thin man's voice rose with a note of panic. "What? Is that... a humanoid monster? Are we actually getting attacked?"

Tyler, running with incredible speed, thought to himself, *Oh, I've actually arrived. Are those the guards?*

The thin man, his spear trembling in his grasp, pointed the weapon directly at Tyler, his body beginning to shake. "Oh man, it's so fast!" he cried. "Come on! Alert the others!"

The fat man, his words slurred slightly, simply said, "Yeah, right," as he began to turn. Then he tripped over his own feet, crashing face-first onto the ground.

The thin man stared at him, disbelief etched on his face. "What the hell? Come on, man, are you serious?"

The thin man, squinting against the settling dust, tried to make out the approaching figure. He thought, *Huh? It's a person?*

With a grunt, the fat man pushed himself up, the weight of his armor and his own girth making the effort difficult. As he turned to flee, the lean man shouted, "Wait!"

"Huh? What for?" The fat man asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and fear. "I'm supposed to alert the others!" He waved his hands and shouted, "Hey!" before Tyler arrived, skidding to a halt just meters in front of them, his legs tearing through the *earth*, leaving a slight indent in the ground.

"It's a human, damn it! Wait!" The thin man exclaimed.

The fat man, finally turning to face the approaching figure, froze. "What? It's a human?"

As the dust settled, Tyler stood before them, clad in black armor, his crimson eyes gleaming. He smiled at them. "Hey there."

Despite his friendly greeting, the two men felt an immediate unease, a sense of dread. Tyler's presence was somehow unsettling, almost… creepy. Even the smile felt wrong, and those crimson eyes held an unnatural intensity.

Tyler looked at the thin man, still staring at him in shock, and said, "So this is Aria, right?"

The thin man, still pointing his spear, replied, "Yes, this is Aria. What business do you have here?"

Tyler lifted both his hands slightly upward, a playful smile on his face. "Hey, calm down. I'm not here to cause any trouble. I'm just a hunter."

The thin man lowered his weapon slightly, his eyes narrowed. "You're a hunter?"

The fat man, standing beside him, thought, *"He's a hunter… This guy must definitely be an A-rank... or something."* He realized, *No wonder he was so fast.*

The thin man then said, "Prove it. Show us your hunter's necklace."

"Oh, right," Tyler said. The Necklace of Durability disappeared from his neck, shimmering with a blue hue, and the hunter's necklace materialized in its place.

The thin man took a step back, his eyes wide. "What the hell was that?"

"Oh, no need to worry, it's just a skill that I have. Gives me the ability to hide my things and reveal them when I need to," Tyler said. He then pulled out the pendant of the hunter's necklace, showing it to them.

The thin man looked at the necklace, his expression changing. He saw it was a C-rank assassin. *C-Rank? Wait, this guy is C-Rank? But the was so fast. We literally thought he was a monster just now. And I was almost scared out of my body, thinking that it might even be a strong humanoid monster heading this way. But it's just a C-Rank?*

He fully lowered his spear

Tyler put the necklace back in his armor-hiding pendant. The thin man, his eyes still darting between Tyler and the necklace, said, "Right, you can go inside."

"Wait!" the fat man blurted out.

The thin man turned, his face a mask of confusion. "What?"

The fat man's gaze was locked on Tyler, a flicker of terror in his eyes. His voice was a shaky whisper, and his finger trembled as he pointed. "Why… why doesn't he have a shadow?"

The thin man, following the fat man's gaze, looked at Tyler as he strode toward the towering gates. As Tyler passed through, the thin man's eyes widened in horror, and he snapped, "Wait!" his spear instinctively raised, as if to ward off an unseen evil.

Tyler, *hmm...* he thought, glancing back at them, his crimson eyes burning in the encroaching darkness. As their gazes met, the air crackled with a palpable energy. The thin man's frame began to tremble, a visible tremor running through his body.

"What are you?" the thin man demanded, his voice tight with fear.

"Huh?" Tyler said, feigning confusion. "As I said, I'm a hunter."

"Bullshit!" the fat man roared, his face contorted in a mask of fear and suspicion. "You're not human! You must be a monster! Why don't you have a shadow?"

"What?" Tyler questioned. "Huh? A shadow?" He looked down, and for the first time, truly *saw*. He blinked, a wave of genuine surprise washing over him. The moonlight cast long, distorted shadows of the guards, the walls, the very ground beneath their feet. Yet, where he stood, there was only emptiness. "Oh shit," he muttered, the realization hitting him with a jolt. "I really don't have one."

He met the guards' terrified gazes, and a strange, unsettling amusement bubbled up within him. A smile, devoid of warmth, spread across his lips, born of their fear. He found a strange satisfaction in their horror.