C9 Fist Submitting to Quinn

John was a scoundrel beyond redemption. He might have been plotting something even more sinister or simply waiting for Rinn to let his guard down, thinking he was safe, before showing his true, vicious nature and using his massive fists to shame him.

These were the cautious thoughts swirling in Rinn's head.

With such worries, he had spent the last several days on edge.

To avoid provoking John, he adhered to a strict routine: rise early, head straight to the blacksmith shop, and return home at night to sleep. His goal was simple – work diligently and steer clear of any trouble that might catch John's attention.

But something was off.

John seemed to have genuinely forgotten the whole affair.

During lessons, he behaved as usual, only occasionally hurling insults like "You son of a drunkard."

"Has this drunkard had a change of heart, pitying my hard luck and deciding to spare me?" Rinn wondered.

Eventually, Rinn let his guard down completely, ready to shake off his reclusive lifestyle.

With no immediate threat to his life, it was time to focus on leveling up.

Early morning found Rinn and Quinn standing wearily in the smithy.

Per John's strict rules, they were to rise at six and wait for him in the smithy.

The trouble was, while the schedule was set in stone, John invariably showed up between seven and eight!

Thus, the two hapless apprentices endured the agony of waiting every single day.

"What are you doing?!"

A thunderous bellow jolted Rinn and Quinn, snapping them to attention.

"Master John..."

They immediately stopped dozing, their faces etched with fear.

"Hmph!"

John seemed pleased, perhaps because his apprentices appeared so cowed.

Swinging his fists, he announced, "I need to make a trip to Black Iron City today. I'll be back by noon."

At this, both apprentices breathed a sigh of relief.

The tyrant was leaving, if only for a brief time – a moment of bliss!

But then, John's expression hardened as he said, "Modric's sword is due this afternoon. I'll be busy this morning, so it's impossible for me to finish it. But you two have hands and feet – surely you can lend a hand with this task, right?"

Quinn stood there, dumbfounded, and asked in a feeble voice, "Master John, what exactly are you saying?"

"Hmph! You two have until noon to finish that sword! And if you don't, don't expect any mercy from me!" John declared, before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving Quinn and Rinn in a state of shock.

For a moment, they stood there, frozen like statues, until Quinn, flushed with embarrassment and annoyance, cursed, "Damn that drunkard! He's always berating us, calling our skills garbage, and now he dumps this impossible task on us?"

He spun around to face Rinn and said, "There's no way we can pull this off. If we do fail, I expect you to step up and take the fall!"

It was clear that Quinn was well aware of his and Rinn's limited blacksmithing abilities.

Modric, that pretty boy, had come in with a long list of demands for his custom sword—gems to be set in the hilt, a blade that was both lightweight and razor-sharp...

The guy was a complete novice, clueless about how difficult it was to craft such a sword.

Maybe someone as seasoned as John could pull it off.

But now, this old lush had saddled two apprentices, who hadn't even finished their training, with this burden?

It was an outright setup!

[Mission: In accordance with blacksmith John's orders, complete a sword. Reward for mission completion: 50 experience points.]

Rinn, tuning out Quinn's rant, was taken aback by the text that appeared before him.

A mission, now?

If he completed it, wouldn't he jump up two levels?

He couldn't help but laugh with delight.

Suddenly, his anxiety was replaced by excitement, and his desire to forge the sword intensified.

"Idiot! What are you daydreaming for? Get over here and help!" Quinn's voice snapped Rinn back to reality.

Rinn saw Quinn gripping the hammer, the furnace blazing with intensity, ready to take on the task of forging the sword.

A thought struck Rinn, and he asked, "System, if Quinn manages to forge the sword, does that count as my achievement?"

[It counts if it's done in team mode.]

[Team mode?]

[Can I actually form a team with Quinn?]

Without thinking, Rinn called out, "Hey Quinn, how about we team up?"

"You have sent a team-up invitation to Quinn."

A system prompt appeared.

But Quinn just scowled and retorted, "Team up? What nonsense are you spouting? You're nothing but an idiotic piece of trash, fit only to be my assistant! You think you can be my equal? What a fool!"

"Quinn has declined your request to join forces."

"…" Rinn was dumbstruck.

How dare this foolish NPC defy him?

"Moron! Get over here and help me with the iron, or I swear I'll crack your skull open!"

Quinn was brandishing his hammer menacingly.

Rinn just smirked and muttered, "Idiot."

"What was that?" Quinn, caught off guard, didn't expect to be insulted.

"I called you an idiot."

With his arms folded, Rinn strolled over to where Quinn stood.

Quinn instinctively stepped back, losing his grip on the hammer, which clattered to the ground.

Thud!

A cloud of dust rose, but Quinn was too preoccupied with Rinn, his face etched with astonishment.

How had this kid gotten so burly? And taller than him, no less?

Quinn was baffled.

He recalled how just days ago, Rinn had been shorter and scrawnier, almost effeminate.

But now, the kid had outgrown him in both height and bulk?

"Quinn, I've been preoccupied with John lately and neglected to update you on a few things."

Rinn cleared his throat, assuming a commanding air, "From this point forward, you're not to boss me around. Cross me, and you'll regret it."

"You think you can threaten me?" Quinn's face flushed crimson, resembling a snarling wolf pup.

"You heard me right. I am threatening you. If you've got a problem with that, speak up now."

Rinn's voice was steady, unflappable.

"I'll accept nothing from you, you fool! Go to hell!"

Enraged, Quinn charged, aiming a punch at Rinn's head.

Having been the blacksmith shop's second-in-command, second only to Jennie and John, Quinn had held his position for quite some time.

Now, it seemed Rinn was challenging his status, aiming to knock him down a peg.

That was something Quinn couldn't stand for!

In a fit of rage, Quinn resorted to violence.

But Rinn was not the same person he used to be.

As Quinn came at him with fury, Rinn scoffed and countered with a punch of his own.

With a strength rating of 2.8, Rinn's punch was devastating. It met Quinn's fist and sent him stumbling backward, slamming into the wall.

Bang!

The sound reverberated, as if the whole room trembled with it.

"How can you possibly be this strong?!"

Quinn's face turned ashen, clutching his right hand that had just thrown the punch, his expression one of sheer terror.

Wasn't Rinn the classic weakling, barely able to truss a chicken before?

How could he suddenly be stronger than me?

"Humph!"

Rinn couldn't be bothered to respond to such senseless questions.

He advanced with a menacing presence.

"Don't come any closer!"

Quinn was petrified, pressing himself against the wall as if trying to blend into it.

But with Rinn closing in, there was no escape, leaving Quinn to shiver uncontrollably.

Rinn leaned in, intensifying the intimidation, his voice icy, "From now on, if I say go east, will you even consider going west?"

"No, no, no! I wouldn't dare!"

Quinn was nothing more than a paper tiger. Realizing the strength of his adversary, he quickly caved to avoid a beating.

Moreover, he sensed a change in Rinn.

Those eyes... why were they so terrifying, mirroring the fury of John?

"So, who's the boss and who's the underling?"

Rinn's voice was heavy with authority.

This guy is insufferable!

Why the need to degrade me like this?

Quinn seethed inwardly at the question.

But under the weight of Rinn's steely gaze, he reluctantly nodded, "You're the boss, I'm the underling. I'll follow your orders from now on!"

"Smart move."

Rinn's lips curled into a smirk as he playfully slapped Quinn's cheek.

The gesture left Quinn's face burning red, his chest swelling with indignity.

But with his right arm throbbing in pain, he dared not utter a word.

Can't handle a low-IQ NPC like you?

Rinn couldn't suppress a malicious grin at the sight of Quinn's demeaned state.

Remembering his mission, he dropped the bravado, picked up the hammer, and called out to the still humiliated Quinn, "Idiot, aren't you going to assist me now?"

Quinn's face ran through a gamut of emotions, on the verge of lashing out several times.

But ultimately, he choked back his rage and managed a sycophantic grin, "Right away, boss. I'm on it!"