C11 The Shameless Quinn

As Quinn was grappling with his discontent, Rinn casually tossed aside the iron sword he had just finished and barked, "Again!"

"What?" Quinn was taken aback.

Rinn berated him without missing a beat, "You imbecile, I said keep the materials coming! Can't you understand simple instructions?"

Quinn's face turned ashen under the barrage of insults, his eyes filled with humiliation as he stared at Rinn.

What was with this guy's temper?

He was practically a mini John!

"Move it!"

Rinn, growing impatient, rolled up his sleeves and barked out the command.

"Fine... fine..."

Snapping out of it, Quinn quickly resumed passing materials.

Rinn accepted them, but instead of forging right away, he glanced at his attribute panel and couldn't suppress a sly grin.

Name: Rinn

Level: 1

Title: None

Profession: Elementary Blacksmith

Attributes: Strength 2.8, Dexterity 1.3, Intelligence 1.5

Professional Skill: Elementary Forging Technique (110/10000): "Elementary Forging Technique boasts a 95% success rate for standard weapons, a 20% chance to craft a blue weapon, and a 1% chance for a purple weapon..."

Combat Skill: None

Skill Points: 0

Attribute Points: 0

Experience: 95/100

Currency: 25 silver coins, 110 copper coins

...

There wasn't much change in his specific attributes.

The real difference was the spike in his forging technique proficiency!

A full fifty points!

"So, forging weapons boosts proficiency too! But only a fifty-point increase for a basic weapon? Seems a bit stingy, doesn't it?"

Rinn felt a twinge of disappointment but didn't dwell on it, diving back into his blacksmithing with renewed vigor.

...

In his past life, Rinn was just another face in the crowd of the aimless.

His academic performance was mediocre at best, and he skated by on the bare minimum.

His work ethic was lackluster, embodying the 'work for three days, fish for two' mentality.

He had never truly known what it meant to be "serious" in his previous existence.

But now, his focus and dedication were unwavering!

Even Quinn found himself impressed by Rinn's meticulous demeanor.

"Damn, this idiot's painstaking attention to detail... is actually kind of cool?"

Rinn, meticulous and focused, forged tirelessly until noon. At the stroke of midday, he tossed the newly forged iron sword onto the ground, wiping his brow with a hint of regret. "Sigh, what a shame. I still haven't managed to craft a blue weapon."

Glancing at the chat box beside him, he noticed a slew of messages that had appeared earlier.

"Forged a white-level iron sword, proficiency increased by 50..."

"Forged a white-level iron sword, proficiency increased by 50..."

Throughout the morning, five such notifications had sprung up.

That meant Rinn had crafted an impressive total of five iron swords!

Though they were merely rough sword blanks, the efficiency of his work was astounding.

Having forged for an extended period, Rinn had expended a great deal of energy. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and turned to Quinn. "I'm going to take a quick bathroom break. When I get back, I'll fine-tune these five swords."

The swords were still in their basic form; to finish them, further work was needed. He'd have to fit wooden pieces to the hilts, attach tassels, set gems, and sharpen the blades—plenty of intricate tasks remained.

No sooner had Rinn stepped away than Quinn, eyeing the five iron swords in the corner, began to rant.

"What in the world is wrong with this fool!"

"He's forged so many iron swords in just one morning, and not a single failure. His success rate seems to be on par with John's?"

"If this fool is already this skilled, what chance do I have in the future?"

The thought sent a shiver through Quinn's body.

Previously, Quinn had been the clever one, the exemplar that John held up to others. Rinn, on the other hand, was the one constantly facing ridicule and beatings.

Now, with Rinn's forging skills skyrocketing, Quinn found himself in the unenviable position of the cautionary tale.

Was he doomed to suffer as Rinn once had?

The more Quinn dwelled on it, the more panic set in, to the point where he contemplated leaving the forge altogether.

Just then, a gruff voice called out from the doorway, "Quinn, Rinn, you two blockheads, have you finished the task?"

Quinn's heart skipped a beat. Oh no, John's back. If he finds out that Rinn made those sword blanks in the corner, what will his reaction be?

Before Quinn could even process the thought, John's towering figure entered the room. His eyes immediately landed on the five iron swords in the corner, and his face registered shock and surprise.

"Did you make these?"

"What?" Quinn was caught off guard by John's question.

John strode over to the corner, examining each iron sword carefully. Satisfied there were no issues, he turned to Quinn with astonishment in his gaze. "I asked you a question. Did you make these?"

What could Quinn say in that moment?

He quickly raised his hand and confessed, "Master John! Yes, I made them!"

The thrill of recognition wasn't entirely pleasant.

But at that moment, Quinn decided it was best to own up to it. After all, John's face held a glint of unexpected joy—perhaps this could work in Quinn's favor.

"You've surprised me, Quinn. I always lumped you in with Rinn, thinking you were both hopeless. But it turns out you've got a real knack for this."

John set the swords down, his voice rich with approval. "These sword blanks aren't perfect, but the craftsmanship is impressive. You can't achieve this level of skill without a lot of practice. So, those late-night forging sessions you mentioned were true, huh?"

"Heh, what can I say? I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, so I have to put in the extra effort..." Quinn replied with an unabashed grin.

"Master John, you've returned?"

A voice rang out, and Rinn entered the blacksmith shop, looking fresh-faced and bright.

"Hmph!"

John's mood soured at the sight of Rinn, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You're worthless, Rinn. Quinn's already capable of handling things on his own, while you're still bumbling around, unable to recognize materials or hold a hammer steady. Of all the apprentices I've trained, you're by far the most inept!"

Was John drunk this early in the day?

Rinn's face was a mix of sadness and frustration.

"Feeling hard done by?" John's voice was tinged with anger as he rolled up his sleeves. "Quinn's managed to forge all these sword blanks, and you can't do a thing. Am I not supposed to scold you for that?"

His anger was palpable, but Rinn responded with astonishment, "Master John, what did you just say? Quinn forged these sword blanks?"

He shot Quinn a piercing glance and, upon seeing the latter's guilty demeanor, everything clicked into place.

So, while I was in the restroom, this sneaky Quinn tried to pull a fast one?

He dared to claim my hard work as his own?

Quinn, realizing he had to double down on his deception, stared defiantly at Rinn and declared, "Rinn, you'd better take Master John's words to heart! The more you resist, the more you reveal your own incompetence. Got that?"

He's lecturing me now?

Rinn's anger flared, but he dismissed Quinn with a wave of his hand, turning his attention to John with a serious tone, "Master John, I am the one who forged these iron swords."

"Hmm?" John's brow furrowed, uncertainty creeping in.

Quinn, unable to contain his agitation, blurted out, "Rinn, you idiot, what nonsense are you spouting? I clearly forged these sword blanks! How can you be so utterly shameless?"

Rinn was taken aback by Quinn's audacity.

How could such a brazen NPC exist?

"Rinn, do you understand the consequences of lying to me?"

At that moment, John's icy gaze settled on him.

Clearly, he wasn't convinced that Rinn had crafted the sword blanks.

Rinn chuckled, his laugh tinged with mockery. "Master John, talking gets us nowhere. If you trust Quinn, then let him forge another sword blank right here, right now."

John considered the proposal and found it reasonable. He turned to Quinn, "Can you forge one now?"

Quinn's face paled. Indeed, he had been so preoccupied with his lies that he'd forgotten his lack of skill.

What now?

"Master John, it's already noon... I need to cook for you... Perhaps we could revisit this later in the afternoon or tomorrow?"

Left with no other option, Quinn resorted to more lies.

"Fool! At a time like this, you still won't prove your innocence? Is eating really more important to you? You glutton!" John's tirade sent Quinn into a state of sheer panic. With no way out, he hastily exclaimed, "Please, Master John, take a moment to cool off. I'll start right away!"

Without another word, he reignited the forge, grabbed the hammer, and readied the materials before setting to work on the anvil.

John strode over to Rinn, his expression severe. "If you've lied, I'll settle both today's and last time's debts together!" he declared.

A shiver ran through Rinn.

Had this old drunkard really not forgotten about last time?