C13 Manipulating the Devil Beast

If hatred could transform a person into a vengeful spirit, Quinn was certain he was on the verge of such a transformation. Since the blacksmithing incident, just as he had dreaded, that accursed Rinn had leaped into the role of the official blacksmith at the forge! John's treatment of him had done a complete turnaround—no longer harsh but exceedingly polite, even occasionally inviting him for drinks!

To sit as an equal with John and be considered a friend... what an enviable position.

And Quinn? He remained the perennial unlucky guy.

With Rinn's promotion, Quinn had lost a comrade to share the workload. Consequently, he became the blacksmith shop's chief—and only—scapegoat. John would always find his way over to berate him, a memory so unpleasant that Quinn shuddered at the mere thought.

"The Ranger once told me, though born into poverty, I was destined for wealth in this life! Yet my fortune has yet to arrive! Did that fool Rinn steal my luck?" Quinn's eyes reddened with the thought.

As a child, a ranger carrying a bow and arrows had passed through Snakefield. Quinn's down-to-earth parents had welcomed the impoverished wanderer, offering him a hearty meal of meat and wine. The ranger, quite the talker, had engaged Quinn in hours of conversation. The details of their chat had faded from memory, but Quinn vividly recalled the ranger's praise: "You have the look of prosperity, and your future is boundless!"

But years had slipped by, and Quinn's life had grown increasingly bitter, not the promised prosperity.

"My troubles seem to have started the moment I became a blacksmith, didn't they?"

"No more! I can't continue like this! Otherwise, I'm bound to be killed by a drunkard one of these days!"

After much deliberation, Quinn resolved to seek revenge. Yes, everything he had lost had been snatched away by Rinn. As a warrior, he was determined to reclaim what was rightfully his.

But how to exact revenge on Rinn? Quinn's mind seemed to fail him. Rinn was now a blacksmith with a salary and status far beyond Quinn's reach. With such a vast disparity between them, Quinn could neither best him in combat nor match his status.

How is this even fair?

Quinn had been restless for days, his thoughts consumed by revenge, and it had cost him his sleep.

...

Dawn broke.

After a night of fitful sleep, Quinn was jolted awake by a jarring noise.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

The sound wasn't loud, but it pierced the silence with clarity.

He rose from his bed and glanced at the empty one beside him.

"Could that be Rinn, the little rascal?"

Since his promotion to blacksmith, Rinn had moved out of the dilapidated dormitory.

His new quarters were right beside John's, mere steps from Miss Zehr's boudoir.

The room was lavishly furnished, usually reserved by John for distinguished guests.

Now, Rinn had claimed it, and Quinn couldn't help but seethe with envy.

"It's got to be him. I'm going to check it out!"

Quinn climbed out of bed and strode through the door into the courtyard.

Clang!

Clang!

The sound grew louder and unmistakable.

It was definitely emanating from the blacksmith's shop.

The thought of Rinn already hard at work while he was still in bed filled him with a pang of guilt.

"No! I should see it this way: I'm just an apprentice, without even a chance to run the blacksmith shop on my own... So it's not laziness, it's just bad luck!"

With this self-consoling thought, Quinn approached the window and peered into the blacksmith's shop.

His jaw dropped in astonishment.

It was Rinn at the anvil, his movements as deft as ever.

Each hammer strike sent sparks scattering in a fiery dance.

The sheer force was unsettling.

But Quinn's gaze wasn't on Rinn.

His eyes were riveted to the corner of the room.

There stood a line of weapons in every conceivable shape and size—knives, swords, spears, staves...

Every kind of weapon imaginable was represented!

And these were no mere rough casts. They were fully shaped and finished with a second round of craftsmanship. On the market, they'd be snapped up in an instant by destitute swordsmen and rangers!

Even Quinn couldn't resist being moved!

"All of this was crafted by that fool Rinn?"

"He's capable of forging so many weapons on his own now?"

"It's no wonder John has been treating him like a prized possession lately."

A flurry of thoughts raced through Quinn's mind, his expression a mix of envy and frustration.

Clang!

Suddenly, a thunderous clanging sound snapped Quinn back to reality.

He saw the iron billet Rinn had been hammering now took the shape of a hammer!

For a fleeting moment, as the hammer took form, it seemed to emit a blue glow!

But the glow vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Quinn was puzzled. Had he imagined it?

...

Inside the blacksmith's shop.

Rinn gazed at the hammer with a surge of excitement.

I've finally done it!

He was about to lift the hammer when a sudden intuition made him glance out the window.

His eyes met Quinn's outside.

Their gazes locked, and Quinn, in a panic, turned and bolted.

"Brother Quinn!"

Rinn's call halted Quinn, who stood frozen, not daring to take another step.

An official blacksmith wielded considerable power over an apprentice.

"Come inside!"

Rinn's voice beckoned. Quinn, his nerves on edge, reluctantly stepped into the room, feeling the weight of authority.

With his head bowed, his eyes swept over the weapons in the corner. The closer he looked, the more his heart raced.

"Up close, I can see just how superior these weapons are. Has this idiot's blacksmithing improved again? And here I am, still knowing nothing..."

Bitterness swelled in Quinn's heart.

But he quickly clenched his jaw and inwardly raged.

"Rinn! You've stolen my destiny! You're basking in the glory that should be mine! Just wait! One day, I'll make you regret and despair! I'll have you groveling at my feet!"

"The thought of me submitting to you? That will never happen!"

...

Unaware of Quinn's venomous vow, Rinn asked casually, "When did you get here?"

"Just... a moment ago..." Quinn stammered, his anxiety palpable.

"A moment ago?"

"Three minutes... earlier..."

"Oh, is that so? Then why didn't you greet me? Aren't we brothers? Why the cold shoulder?"

Rinn's smile was easy, but it only served to tighten the knot in Quinn's stomach as he silently fumed.

And you still have the nerve to call us brothers?

While you were knocking back drinks with John, you sure had a field day at my expense! You think I'm clueless?

And every time John laid into me, you stood there watching. Did you find it amusing?

"Quinn, you seem reluctant to consider me a brother, huh?"

Rinn's calm voice floated over, sending a chill through Quinn, who stammered in panic, "No... Rinn, I've always seen you as... a brother..."

He spat out the words, his voice tinged with humiliation.

Deep down, he was itching for Rinn's downfall!

"That's good to hear."

Rinn nodded, pleased. "So, Brother Quinn, I've been struggling to forge a weapon that meets my standards lately. It seems I'm missing a crucial blueprint. Do you know if John has any special blueprints for weapons?"

Rinn had been on a forging frenzy lately, trying to improve his proficiency and craft blue weapons.

But no matter how hard he worked, the elusive blue weapon refused to materialize.

After consulting the system, the reality dawned on him.

Crafting a high-tier weapon was more than just a matter of experience; luck played its part, and given that Rinn wasn't exactly a looker, his luck was predictably poor.

Naturally, having a well-designed blueprint would significantly boost his odds.

Rinn figured that John, being an old-hand blacksmith, might just have a stash of advanced weapon blueprints.

During their drinking sessions, he'd subtly fish for information.

But John was sly as a fox, always responding with evasive non-answers.

Failing to get what he wanted from John, Rinn turned to Quinn.

After all, the kid had been John's sidekick for quite some time.

He might have the inside scoop on the old drunk's secrets.

Quinn, however, shook his head and replied, "I'm sorry, Rinn. I don't know if John has any weapon blueprints..."

While his words were apologetic, his thoughts were anything but: "You think you can pump me for information? Fat chance! Even if John had blueprints, I wouldn't share them with you! Fool, we're adversaries! I'll rise above you yet!"

"Really? No blueprints?"

Rinn shook his head in disappointment, but he saw right through Quinn's dishonesty and let it slide, responding with a smile, "Brother Quinn, didn't you once mention how much you'd like to own a beautifully crafted sword?"

"Uh... Really?" Quinn faltered, his heart pounding with shock. Had he actually spilled his dream of "wandering the world with a sword" to this fool?

Drinking really does lead to mishaps!

"Yes," Rinn replied, his expression grave. "Your story of ambition struck a chord with me, Quinn, and I've kept it close to my heart ever since."

He gestured toward the iron longsword on the ground. "Brother Quinn, what do you think? Is this longsword exquisite enough?"

Quinn glanced at it instinctively. The longsword, about two feet and three inches in length, had a hilt crafted from brown peach wood, devoid of a tassel but adorned with two transparent stone beads at its center. The blade was razor-sharp, the tip menacing. It was clearly a top-tier weapon among all white iron arms.

For Quinn, it was a rare treasure!

If he wasn't mistaken, such a weapon couldn't be had for less than ten silver coins in the marketplace!

"Brother Quinn, if it pleases you, this sword is yours," Rinn offered casually. Quinn stared at him, incredulous. "For real?"

"Absolutely," Rinn affirmed with a smile, clapping Quinn on the shoulder. "We're brothers, aren't we? No need for all this fuss."

Quinn inhaled sharply, his face a tapestry of complex emotions. Moments ago, he'd pegged Rinn as an adversary. Yet here he was, extending a gift of great value.

How could he accept such generosity?

Nonetheless, Quinn seized the longsword, testing its heft and swing. With each movement, his joy grew. The sword was a perfect fit for him!

He turned to Rinn with heartfelt gratitude. "Brother! I can't thank you enough for this gift!"

All thoughts of revenge against Rinn dissipated. This was a moment to savor!

Rinn watched Quinn with a light chuckle. An enemy turned ally. Indeed, his ability to win people over was unmatched.

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